MISS  318 


Of  CALIF .  LIBRARY,  IAS  AHGGUKS 


MISS    318 

A  Story  in  Season 
and  Out  of  Season 


By 
RUPERT  HUGHES 


New     York  Chicago  Toronto 

Fleming     H.      Revel!     Company 

London  and  Edinburgh 


Copyright,  1911,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  i=;8  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  123  North  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London :  :  i  Pnternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princes  Street 


Foreword 

"T~S  there  any  excuse  for  one  more 
Christmas  story  ?  " 

"  Perhaps — if  one   could    find 
something  that  has  been  left  unsaid." 

"  But  surely  nothing  has  been  left 
unsaid?" 

"  The  truth,  perhaps." 

"The  truth  ?  —  about  Christmas! 
Would  anybody  care  to  read  it?  " 

"  Perhaps  ;  if  anybody  cared  enough 
to  write  it." 

"  But  would  anybody  dare  to  pub 
lish  it?" 

"  Probably  not." 

"  That  sounds  interesting  !  What 
nobody  would  care  to  read  and  nobody 
would  dare  to  publish,  ought  to  be  well 
worth  writing." 

5 


Foreword  

Some  such  internal  debate  brought 
about  the  writing  of  this  story  ;  its  first 
aim  to  be  an  interesting  story,  its  am 
bition  to  be  also  a  truthful  story. 

The  result  was  amazing.  The  first 
editor  that  saw  it  published  it.  Its  ap 
pearance  in  The  Saturday  Evening  Post 
brough  forth  a  multitude  of  responses, 
all  of  them  warm  with  approval. 
There  came  even  anonymous  letters 
full  of  God-bless-you's — and  anony 
mous  letters  are  not  usually  full  of 
God-bless-you's.  Many,  many  people 
have  asked  for  Miss  318  in  book  form, 
so  here  it  is ;  begging  whoso  reads  the 
story  of  these  victims  of  Christmas  as 
it  is,  to  remember  throughout  that  it  is 
in  no  sense  at  all  a  protest  against  the 
beautiful  festival  itself,  but  a  plea  for 
Christmas  as  it  ought  to  be. 

New  York.  R.  H. 

6 


Contents 


I. 

AT  BAY   . 

.      11 

II. 

OFF  DUTY 

.       30 

III. 

IN  CLOVER 

.       35 

IV. 

"  ON  FAMEEL  " 

.  •     39 

y. 

HER  GUEST     . 

.       44 

VI. 

WEARY  FEET  . 

.      57 

VII. 

YULE  THOUGHTS     . 

.      64 

VIII. 

AFTER  DARK  . 

.       73 

IX. 

DUBS  AND  DUDS 

.       80 

X. 

FAG  AND  FRET 

.       86 

XL 

To  THE  EESCUE 

.      97 

XII. 

MERRY  XMAS  ! 

.     103 

XIII. 

HER  HOLIDAY 

.     116 

XIV. 

THE  "WHITE  SALE  . 

126 

Illustrations 

She  stifled  a  yawn  with  a  delicate  gesture  before 
she  deigned  to  make  out  the  necessary  liter 
ature  .  .  .  .  .  .  .21 

She  poised  a  luscious  spoon-load  in  front  of  her 

smile   .......        36 

It  was  Claude  Duval  who  answered  :  "  Oh, 
no,  no.  I  thank  you.  I  would  not  wish  for 
any"  .  .  -47 

So  exquisite   a  creature  as  the  timid  statuette  of 

pathos  on  the  door-sill     .          .          .          .51 

"  This  store  will  be  like  the  battle  of  Gettysboig 

the  last  three  days  "  .          .          •        7° 

"  You   speak  to   us  again    and  I'll  lose  this   hat 

pin  in  you !  "         .          .          .          .          •        78 

So  they  went  home — the    shop-girl   flanked  by 

the  bin-boy  and  the  gatherer    .          .          .121 

"  I  have  just  got  to  tell  you,  Lisettc,  for  I  owe 

it  all  to  you "  .         .         .         .123 


EVERY  DAY  IS  BARGAIN  DAY  AT 

THE  MAMMOTH 

But  there  are  bargains  within  bargains.  To-day,  be 
tween  the  hours  of  9  A.  M.  and  4  p.  M.,  we  shall  sell 
1000  corsets  —  only  1000  corsets,  mind  you  !  But  they 
are  the 

Famous  C.         D.  Corsets 


Self-reducing,  first  aid  to  the  superplump  ;  the  last 
word  in  elegance  for  the  perfect  or  for  the  improvable 
figure.  Medium  and  high  bust;  straight  hip  effects; 
four  hose-supporters.  You  have  always  paid  £3.25 
for  C.  Q.  D.'s.  For  seven  hours  you  may  have  one  of 
the  1000  masterpieces  of  the  corsetiere's  art  for 


$1-97 


You  will  not  believe  it  unless  you  see  it. 
You  will  not  see  it  unless  you  come  early. 


Miss  318 


AT  BAY 


THAT  morning  the  rhapsodist 
who  composed  the  passionate 
advertisements  of  the  Mam 
moth  Shop,  sang  the  song  on  the  op 
posite  page.  The  clarion  cry,  rever 
berating  through  the  newspaper  mega 
phones,  roused  the  women  of  the  city 
to  a  frenzy  difficult  for  the  masculine 
mind  to  understand.  And  they  re 
sponded  as  the  rats  of  Hamelin  when 
the  pied  piper  piped — fat,  lean  and  all 
the  betweens  ;  rich  and  poor  and  mid 
dlings  ;  by  elevated,  surface,  subway, 
afoot,  ahansom,  ataxi,  and  even  acrutch. 


ii 


-   Miss    318  - 

Like  a  tiny  coral  atoll  in  an  angry 
sea  the  corset  kiosk  breasted  the 
shocks  of  the  ravening  women.  They 
billowed  and  eddied  about  it  in  a  solid 
yet  fluid  mass.  A  mingled  hunger  for 
beauty  and  for  bargain  drove  them  on 
like  a  storm. 

Over  the  kiosk  was  the  red-lettered 
legend  : 

As  Advertised  !  Special !  $1.97  ! ! 
To-day  Only  !  ! ! 

The  sales-nymph  of  that  grotto  stood 
underneath  the  placard,  as  if  it  were 
she  that  was  for  sale  for  $1.97. 

She  was  known  to  her  superiors  as 
"No.  318,"  known  to  the  regular  pa 
trons  of  the  store  as  "  that  vinegar- 
cruet,"  and  known  to  the  few  who 
knew  her  uncommercially  as  Miss 

Lisette    Mooney.     Her   parents   called 
12 


:      At    Bay  : 

her  "  Liz,"  but  she  preferred  Lisette  ; 
and  if  you  wished  to  please  her  you 
would  call  her  last  name  "  Moo-nay  " 
— with  the  stress  on  the  "  nay." 

Miss  Mooney's  knowledge  and  opin 
ion  of  that  sweet  multitude  summed 
up  as  "  American  womanhood "  had 
been  founded  chiefly  on  her  experience 
with  it  as  it  surged  past  or  stagnated 
around  her  counter.  She  had  read 
something  about  saintly  mothers, 
gentle-souled  wives  and  soft-spoken 
sweethearts  in  the  engaging  romances 
of  Miss  Laura  Jean  Libbey  and  Com 
pany  ;  but  she  had  decided  that,  if 
women  of  good  manners  and  amiable 
motive  really  exist  outside  of  books, 
they  had  never  chanced  to  deal  with 
her. 

These  women  could  be  womanly 
elsewhere ;  it  was  their  headlong  pas- 
13 


—   Miss    318  ===== 

sions  for  exquisite  things  meeting 
within  the  narrow  walls  of  financial 
limitation  that  made  a  Niagara  of 
every  bargain-rush.  Miss  Mooney  was 
not  far-sighted  enough  to  realize  and 
forgive  them  any  more  than  her  cus 
tomers  were  magnanimous  enough  to 
blame  her  peevishness  on  her  fatigue, 
or  her  affectations  of  elegance  on  a 
pathetic  desire  to  improve  the  lowly 
shabbiness  of  her  origin.  She  was  a 
self-made  lady. 

Women,  as  Miss  Mooney  knew  them 
in  dull  hours  or  unfrequented  aisles, 
were  creatures  who  dawdled  about  ask 
ing  fool  questions,  seeking  impossible 
combinations,  haggling  like  misers, 
buying  neither  wisely  nor  well,  and 
mingling  odious  vanity  with  heartless 
rapacity. 

Women,  as  Miss  Mooney  knew  them 
14 


=      At    Bay  - 

in  action,  were  horrible  to  contem 
plate.  The  bare  announcement  in  the 
newspapers  of  a  reduction  of  a  few 
pennies  in  the  usual  price  of  any  ar 
ticle  was  sufficient  to  bring  down  all 
the  females  in  New  York  in  one  ruinous 
flood,  as  if  a  dam  had  burst.  Every 
counter  became  a  small  Johnstown,  as 
sailed  with  frenzied  greed,  shocking 
manners  and  raucous,  snarling  voices. 

Miss  Mooney's  acquaintance  with 
men  was  limited.  Only  occasionally 
a  well-dressed  male  wandered  into  the 
Mammoth,  usually  in  tow  of  some 
woman  who  bullied  him  and  nagged 
him  pitilessly.  Such  men  as  came 
alone  went  so  anxiously  to  their  des 
tinations  and  knew  so  exactly  what 
they  wanted,  and  hastened  away  so 
precipitately,  that  they  were  merely 
tantalizing. 

15 


-  Miss   318  - 

Miss  Mooney,  knowing  little  of  the 
male  world,  believed  that  ideal  men 
existed,  that  they  were  numerous  in 
the  great  realm  outside  the  Mammoth. 
She  longed  for  experience.  She  felt 
that  she  could  not  die  without  know 
ing,  loving  and  being  loved  by  some 
body  who  was  somebody — a  broker, 
for  instance,  or  a  painter,  a  duke,  or  an 
actor.  But  she  could  devise  no  way  of 
meeting  any  of  these,  and  she  was  so 
dog-tired  when  the  shop  closed  that  she 
hardly  cared. 

Meanwhile,  to  keep  in  practice,  she 
encouraged  the  attentions  of  such  men 
as  swam  within  her  ken  during  the 
day.  She  was  gracious  to  the  floor 
walkers  ;  she  was  chatty  with  the 
hearty  lads  in  the  hardware  depart 
ment  or  the  polished  youth  in 

the  haberdashery.     Her  manner  with 
16 


•      At    Bay  . 

these  was  as  different  from  her  manner 
with  her  own  sex  as  honey  is  different 
from  quinine. 

She  particularly  cultivated  one  of 
the  floor- walkers,  Mr.  Percival  Sterling, 
who  boarded  on  her  street.  He  was 
rather  afraid  of  her,  and  the  jealous 
minxes  along  the  other  counters  said 
that  she  had  him  hypnotized.  But 
his  nerves  were  usually  so  shattered 
after  a  day's  buffeting  among  the  shop 
pers  that  he  was  not  easy  to  reillu- 
sionize  of  an  evening.  Still,  Miss 
Mooney  had  hopes  of  him.  Better  a 
floor-walker  on  the  arm  than  two  dukes 
in  a  book. 

It  was  marvellous  to  note  the  change 
that  came  over  her  when  Mr.  Sterling 
sauntered  past  the  counter  where  she 
stood.  It  was  : 

"  Nice  morning  this  morning,  Mr. 
17 


-   Miss    318  - 

Stoiling !  "  or  "  Was  you  to  the  Har 
mony  Club  ball  last  night?  I  would 
'a'  went,  only  m'  sister  Goitrood  hadda 
go  and  get  attackted  with  lumbago," 
or  "  How's  your  cough  this  mornin', 
Poicival  ?  " 

Everybody  else,  including  all  the 
floor-walkers,  dreaded  her  sharp  tongue 
and  her  caustic  insolence.  She  would 
have  been  discharged  years  before,  but 
nobody  quite  dared  discharge  Miss 
Mooney.  She  did  make  sales ;  she 
did  keep  her  accounts  straight ;  she 
knew  the  stock  ;  she  was  efficient. 
But  she  was  hateful ;  and  the  women 
who  bought  from  her  hated  her, 
bought  things  just  to  spite  her — just 
"  to  show  her  !  "  Still,  they  bought. 

It  was  easy  to  get  away  purchaseless 
from  pleasanter  saleswomen.  But  to 

take    318's   time   and   energy   and    to 
18 


•      At    Bay     . 

walk  away,  with  an  idle  "  I  was  just 
looking  around "  or  a  casual  "  I'll 
probably  be  back  later,"  was  to  invite 
a  barbed  glance  that  went  through  and 
through  one's  very  spine  like  a  scroll- 
saw. 

So  Miss  Mooney  kept  her  job  be 
cause,  as  one  of  the  partners,  Mr.  Pos- 
walsky,  said  to  the  other,  Mr.  Hirsch- 
berg : 

"  After  all,  318  sells  the  stuff.  Look 
at  her  stubs  once !  We  ain't  running 
a  etiquette  store.  Ladies  get  mad  at 
her,  but  they  come  back  when  we 
mark  something  low.  You  better  give 
her  a  call-down,  but  don't  let  her  get 
loose." 

So  now,  on  this  epoch-making  day 

in  corset-history  when  C.  Q.  D.'s  were 

quoted  at  $1.97,  the  kiosk  was  assigned 

to  318.     She  glowed  within  it  like  a 

19 


-   Miss    318  - 

flame  in  a  crater.  Her  hair,  originally 
of  a  brickish  hue,  this  season  was  of  a 
sulphurous  tinge  and  her  manner  was 
one  of  implied  brimstone. 

Very  grimly  she  regarded  the  rabid 
horde  about  her.  Very  sarcastically 
she  withered  those  who  comported 
themselves  as  if  they  were  conferring  a 
favour  on  the  store  by  buying.  She 
upheld  the  dignity  of  the  Mammoth 
and  made  it  distinctly  understood  that 
the  reduction  in  price  was  actually  a 
charitable  largess  to  the  needy.  She 
knew  that  no  other  attitude  could  so 
reduce  a  purchaser  to  that  state  of 
helpless  rage  where  one's  only  way  of 
asserting  one's  self-respect  is  to  buy 
and  be  off. 

Dozens  of  corpulent  women  were  al 
ready  reducing  themselves  and  one 

another    by   their    athletic    efforts   to 
20 


e 
* 
a 
>> 

a! 
•O 


•      At    Bay  '   : 

wedge  to  the  front  at  the  same  time. 
When  they  brandished  their  selections 
and  their  change  in  her  face,  all  at 
once,  she  tilted  her  nose  a  little  more 
and  drawled  : 

"  One  at  a  time,  please.  What  was 
you  saying,  m'm  ? "  She  had  even 
compressed  the  necessary  "  madam  " 
into  a  mere  hum — a  murmurous  dou 
ble  M. 

"I  am  going  to  faint  if  I  don't  get 
out,"  panted  one  scarlet  shopper.  "  It's 
an  outrage  to  be  so  slow." 

"  Was  you  addressing  me,  m'm  ?  " 
318  mused  ;  and  staring  through  the 
too,  too  solid  flesh  as  if  it  were  a  pane 
of  glass  she  became  a  little  slower,  and 
stifled  a  yawn  with  a  delicate  gesture 
before  she  deigned  to  make  out  the 
necessary  literature  and  hoist  the  par 
cel  basket  to  its  chute. 

21 


=    Miss    318  - 

"  I'll  report  you  to  the  floor- walker 
if  you  ignore  me  further,"  shrieked  a 
purple-faced  dowager,  frantic  to  be  at 
home  and  don  the  sylph-producing 
envelope. 

The  mention  of  the  floor- walker 
brought  a  jaded  smile  to  Miss  Moon- 
ey's  lips.  She  knew  that  no  mere 
male  would  dare  venture  among  these 
maudlin  bargain-bacchantes. 

With  the  dignity  of  a  butterfly 
wrenching  itself  loose  from  the  chrys 
alis,  or  a  soul  prying  free  from  its  ma 
terial  chains,  she  set  her  hands  on  her 
hips  and,  as  if  she  were  quite  alone, 
writhed  upward  in  her  tight  stays. 
Then  she  sighed  luxuriously  and, 
leaving  the  threatener  to  smother  in 
her  own  rage,  tossed  an  airy  remark 
over  her  head  to  the  high-throned 

cash-girl  across  the  aisle  : 
22 


;      At    Bay  '• 

11  Say,  Constance,  the  manners  some 
of  these  dames  hasn't  got  would  give 
you  a  pain,  wouldn't  they  ?  Soitain 
poissons  seem  to  think  a  goil's  got  a 
hunderd  hands."  Then  turning  back 
to  her  quivering  victim  :  "  I  ain't  a 
spider,  m'm ;  and  there's  other  ladies 
been  waiting  here  longer  'n  you  have. 
You  might  tell  the  floor-walker  how 
you  squeezed  in  ahead  of  your  toin. 
That  lady  under  your  elbow  was  here 
hours  before  you  was." 

This  turned  the  tide  of  sentiment 
against  the  interloper  and  she  blenched 
before  the  glare  of  the  other  looters. 
She  was  almost  moved  to  yield  the 
place  she  had  usurped — almost. 

In  a  hush  of  awe  the  cowed  rabble 

awaited  the  rcyal  whim   of  318  and, 

without    further    complaint,    accepted 

the   parcels   as  donations  and   backed 

23 


—  Miss    318  — 

out  one  after  another,  hugging  the 
doubly  precious  coats  of  armour  to 
their  exuberant  torses. 

The  unfortunate  penitent  who  had 
threatened  to  invoke  the  floor- walker 
was  still  longing  for  the  steel-ribbed 
caisson  that  should  give  her  the  con 
tour  of  a  Phryne,  when  a  fresh  tidal 
wave  of  maenads,  disgorged  from  some 
street  car,  smote  the  crowd.  In  the 
confusion,  a  human  eddy  swept  a 
frightened  young  woman  forward  to 
the  kiosk  and  deposited  her  on  the 
ledge  like  a  body  thrown  ashore  by  a 
wave.  At  the  sight  of  the  new-come 
face,  as  pretty  as  its  plebeian  limita 
tions  permitted,  Miss  Mooney's  rigour 
relaxed  in  a  smile  of  cordiality. 

"  Well,  for  Gawsay  I  "  —she  had  con 
densed  this  strenuous  expletive  into  a 

mere   exhalation — "if  it  ain't  Moitle 

24 


-      At    Bay  - 

Crilley  !  How  joo  ever  woik  your  way 
through  this  push  ?  "  She  hailed  the 
change-girl  on  the  crag  opposite : 
"  Say,  Constance  ;  look  who's  here." 

The  change-girl  waved  a  hand  full 
of  bills. 

"  Welcome  to  our  city,  Myrt." 

Miss  Mooney  shook  her  by  the 
hand.  "  Say,  I  ain't  sor  you  for  a 
month  of  Sundays.  Livin'  in  the 
same  'partment  house,  o'  course  we 
never  meet.  That's  N'  York  all  over. 
How  are  you,  anyway?  How's  your 
mother  'n'  fath'r  and  your  little  sist'r? 
'S  your  brother  out  of  the  hospital 
yet?" 

"  Yes — oh,  we're  pretty  well.  I'm 
all  right,"  was  the  girl's  comprehen 
sive  answer.  She  looked  about  at  the 
glowering,  many-eyed  hostility  sur 
rounding  her  and  gasped  :  "  But  say, 
25 


—   Miss    318  — 

Liz — Lisette,  how  do  you  ever  stand 
this?" 

"This?"  said  318,  indicating  the 
syndicated  wrath  shoving  corsets  at 
her.  "  Oh,  this  is  nothing — simpluh 
a  part  of  the  day's  woik.  Just  wait 
till  next  week.  Then  you'll  see  some 
crowd.  The  whole  store'll  be  like  this 
is  only  woise." 

She  paused  for  breath  and  a  score  of 
voices  broke  in  with  a  shrapnel  of 
questions  :  "  Would  you  be  kind 

enough  to  tell  me "  "  Can't  you 

have  this  wrapped "  I'd  like 

this  sent  to "  "  Do  these  come 

with  double-length  laces "  "  Do 

you  have  this  in  any  other  shades  ex 
cept  "  "  Are  we  supposed  to  stand 

here  all  day  and  listen  to  your " 

No.  318  swept  the  mutineers  with  a 

scornful    glance    and    continued    her 
26 


•  At    Bay  - 

chat,  flinging  occasional  parenthetical 
answers  to  the  splenetic  shoppers. 

"Where  you  woikin'  now,  Moitle? 
—No,  m'm ;  we  cannot  exchange  any 
thing. — Still  got  your  place  in  that 
swell  milliner's? — Yes,  m'm ;  the  price  is 
plainly  marked. — No,  m'm.  Yes,  m'm. 
• — I  said  where  you  woikin'  at  now?  " 

"  No  place,"  said  Myrtle.  "  Wisht  I 
could  get  a  p'sition  here.  I  need  a  job 
something  awful." 

"  You  woik  here  ! — That  corset's  the 
biggest  we  carry  in  the  C.  Q.  D.  Too 
bad.  We  have  no  call  for  them  extra 
sizes. — Why,  you'd  last  about  fV  days 
here,  Moitle. — Well,  m'm,  if  you  don't 
like  those  kind  of  hose-supporters  you 
can  cut  'em  off. — This  job  would  be 
too  strenurous  for  a  wisp  like  you. — 
What's  that?  We  soitainly  cannot. 

Try  a  short  and  stout." 
27 


-  Miss    318  - 

The  young  girl  was  emboldened  to 
speak  above  the  surf: 

"  Oh,  I  could  stand  it,  1  guess,  when 
I  got  used  to  it.  And  I  need  it. 
Father's  had  hard  luck  lately ;  and 
mother's  back's  gave  out  on  her,  so  she 
can't  scrub  floors  as  good  as  she  used 
to  could." 

Miss  Mooney  clicked  her  sympathy. 
"  Ts-ts-ts !  I  guess  George  M.  had  it 
right  when  he  said,  Life's  a  funny  prop- 
osish. — Yes,  m'm ;  you  sew  'em  right 
inside  the  corset. — Well,  Moitle,  if  you 
gotta  go  to  woik,  maybe  I  could  fix  it 
for  yuh.  A  soitain  party — Can't  you 
see  I'm  waitin'  on  this  lady  ? — as  I 
started  to  say,  a  soitain  party  is  takin' 
me  to  a  vawdville  house  to-night.  He 
has  infloonce.  I'll  sudjest  it  to  him. 
• — No,  m'm.  There  ain't  any  lor  com- 

pellin'  you  to  take  it  if  you  don't  like 
28 


•  At    Bay  : 

it — Is  that  so  !  -  —  What  you  want, 
Moitle  ?— one  of  these  C.  Q.  D.'s? 
Say,  save  your  money.  Whyn't  you 
go  out  in  your  own  figure? — whilst 
you  got  one.  Some  dames  is  built  like 

battle-ships  and No,  m'm  ;  I  was 

not  alloodin'  to  you.  Oh,  very  well ! — 
Well,  s'long,  Moitle.  You're  entirely 
welcome.  See  you  to-morra.  I  may 
have  nooze  for  you.  Come  again 
when  you  can't  stay  so  long.  Give 
my  regards  to  your  folks. — What's 
that?  The  price  is  on  the  card  just 
over  your  head.  People  are  s'posed  to 
be  able  to  read.  What's  that?  Your 
change  ?  Well,  I  ain't  got  it.  Soon's 
it  comes  back  you'll  get  it.  What's 
that?  Excuse  me,  but  kinely  do  not 
handle  the  goods  if  not  intending  to 
poichase.  Yes,  m'm.  No,  m'm.  No, 

m'm.     Yes,  m'm.     What's  that?" 
29 


II 

OFF  DUTY 

WHEN  the  thousandth  C.  Q. 
D.  had  been  snatched  up  at 
four  o'clock,  Miss  Mooney 
dragged  her  various  fatigues,  mental 
and  bodily,  to  the  lunch-room  for  a 
"san'wich  and  a  cuppa  tea."  Then 
she  was  assigned  to  another  depart 
ment,  where  she  sold  what  she  called 
"  lonjery."  Into  the  Eleusinian  mys 
teries  of  that  realm  we  are  forbidden 
to  follow. 

At  six  o'clock  the  Mammoth  closed 
and  she  joined  the  line  before  the  coat- 
room.  A  little  later,  on  the  street,  she 
was  as  haughty  as  her  idea  of  a 

duchess.     On  the  sardine-packed  street 
30 


=    Off  Duty    ===== 

car,  a  man,  evidently  from  out  of 
town,  gave  her  his  seat,  under  the  ap 
parent  impression  that  she  was  prob 
ably  there  because  her  automobile  had 
broken  down.  She  thanked  him  with 
majesty,  but  she  sat  gracelessly  like  a 
working  woman,  almost  too  weary  to 
open  her  Evening  Joinal  and  palpitate 
with  "  Beetrus  Fairfax  "  over  the  eth 
ical  and  etiquettical  problems  of  life. 
She  had  been  on  her  feet  all  day  and 
there  were  four  flights  of  stairs  to 
climb  before  she  was  home. 

Once  she  entered  the  crowded  pig 
eonhole  that  was  her  family's  domain, 
her  lofty  manners  fell  from  her  like  a 
cloak.  She  released  her  aching  feet 
from  the  straining  leather  and  caressed 
them  with  pitying  tenderness.  Then 
she  slumped  into  a  chair  and,  leaning 
her  head  on  one  hand  in  utter  fag,  ate 
3* 


~   Miss    318  - 

what  was  shoved  at  her  and  cared  no 
whit  that  the  service  was  not  accord 
ing  to  the  standards  of  that  great 
dream-world  she  called  "  Fi'th  Aven- 
yuh." 

After  the  dinner  she  helped  with  the 
dish-washing  and  cleared  the  versatile 
table  in  the  versatile  cell  that  served 
as  drawing-room,  library,  living-room 
dining-room,  butler's  pantry  and 
kitchen. 

Then  she  began  a  new  toilet  and  put 
on  the  finery  she  had  made  herself, 
with  pathetic  mimicry  of  the  "  swell 
push "  as  she  knew  it.  Eventually 
the  bell  in  the  kitchen  announced  the 
advent  of  a  caller  in  the  entrance-hall 
four  flights  below.  She  drove  her  hat 
pins  through  her  amazing  hat  and  the 
haycock  of  her  more  amazing  hair,  and 

sped  down  the  stairs,  gathering  up  the 
32 


=    Off    Duty    == 

hauteur  that  had  fallen  from  her  as 
she  climbed. 

Mr.  Percival  Sterling  was  waiting. 
His  gallantry  was  not  equal  to  those 
four  flights.  His  eyes  popped  at  318's 
grandeur,  and  he  took  the  apex  of  her 
elbow  in  his  hand  with  as  close  an  ap 
proximation  to  tenderness  as  a  timid 
palm  could  well  transmit  to  so  sharp  a 
bone. 

Miss  Mooney  flushed  with  joy  ;  hope 
shuddered  through  her.  Mr.  Sterling 
was  reputed  to  be  the  proud  recipient 
of  twenty-two  dollars  a  week  and  to  be 
the  solid  possessor  of  that  Gibraltar  in 
poverty — "  money  in  the  bank." 

She  inly  determined  to  fascinate  this 
handsome  CrcBsus  and  devote  her  fu 
ture  evenings  to  coaxing  him  into  a 
proposal  She  would  give  up  her  im 
aginings  of  infatuating  a  mystic  mil- 
33 


-   Miss    ji8  - 

lionaire  and  lean  henceforth  upon  a 
tangible  floor-walker.  Suddenly  she 
flushed  to  realize  that  the  tune  she  was 
humming — the  tune  that  made  her 
feet  forget  their  leaden  weariness — was 
none  other  than  the  Wed'n  March  by 
Mandelbaum. 


34 


Ill 

IN  CLOVER 

THANKS  to  the  democratic  na 
ture  of  male  costume  and  the 
mechanical   genius  of  certain 
Titanic     tailors,     Mr.     Sterling     had 
swathed  his  graceful  form  in  an  eigh- 
teen-dollar   suit   on  which   a   baronet 
could  hardly    have    improved    at    as 
many  guineas. 

Thanks  to  the  genius  of  certain 
other  mechanical  artists,  he  provided 
his  companion  and  himself  with  box 
seats  at  a  thrilling  entertainment  for  a 
total  price  of  fifty  cents.  The  menu 
was  moving  pictures,  with  interludes 
of  vaudeville.  Miss  Mooney  draped 

herself    across    the    brass   rail   of  the 
35 


-   Miss    318  - 

box  as  proudly  as  a  countess  at  the 
"  Metterpolitan  Op'ra." 

After  the  show  Mr.  Sterling  did  the 
handsome.  He  stood  treat  at  an  ice 
cream-soda  fountain.  As  Miss  Mooney 
daintily  absorbed  a  sundae,  with  hot 
chocolate  and  walnuts  poured  over 
vanellar  ice-cream,  she  was  moved  to 
observe  with  happy  irony  : 

"I'm  just  heart-broken  over  the 
store  being  closed  to-morra  on  account 
the  holiday.  I  just  hate  to  sleep  late 
—don't  you?" 

Mr.  Sterling  blushed  at  the  inti 
macy  of  the  suggestion  as  he  mur 
mured  : 

"  Thanksgiving  is  a  nice  day,  but 
there  is  always  one  objection  to  it." 

She  poised  a  luscious  spoon-load  in 
front  of  her  smile  :  "  I'll  be  the  goat — 

what's  the  answer  ?  " 
36 


She  poised  a  luscious  spoon-load  in  front  of  her  smile. 


—   In    Clover  — 

He  sighed.  "  It's  a  warning  that 
Christmas  is  coming." 

Her  spoon  fell  back  into  the  chalice 
as  she  wailed  :  "  Christmus  !  Oh,  why 
did  you  mention  the  hor'ble  woid? 
Everything  was  very  pleasant  up  till 
now." 

On  the  way  home  he  was  astonish 
ingly  cordial — for  him.  He  clung  to 
her  elbow.  He  laughed  at  her  wit. 
He  came  as  near  to  declaring  his  love 
as  a  man  could  without  saying  a  word 
about  it,  and  finally  he  spoke  of  the 
loneliness  of  his  life.  Lisette  felt  that 
he  was  all  but  won.  She  played  a  des 
perate  high  card  : 

"  Was  you  intending  to  eat  your 
Thanksgiving  dinner  with  friends  or 
at  home?" 

"At  the  boarding-house,"  he  moaned. 

"  Well,  say,  whyn't  you  come  over 
37 


Miss 


and  set  in  with  us  and  eat  your  dinner 
informal  —  just  on  fameel  as  the  saying 
is?" 

"  It  would  be  lovely,"  said  Mr.  Ster 
ling.  "At  what  hour?" 

"  We  dine  in  the  middle  the  day 
on  Sundays  and  holidays,"  she  said 
with  lofty  carelessness.  Under  the  up 
lift  of  this  welcome  the  lonely  floor 
walker  bade  her  good-night  with  a 
sincere  if  not  a  venturesome  cordiality. 


IV 

"ON  FAMEEL" 

AS  she  climbed  the  stairs  she  was 
planning  to  assail  Mr.  Ster 
ling's  heart  via  his  stomach. 
She  would  show  him  that  she  was  as 
good  a  cook  as  she  was  a  saleslady. 
She  tiptoed  into  the  dark  home  and 
began  to  doze  before  she  had  taken  off 
her  things.  She  was  asleep  almost  be 
fore  she  had  crept  into  the  narrow 
bed  where  her  sister  Gertrude  already 
slumbered. 

Gertrude  had  long  realized  that 
Christmas  was  coming,  for  she  had 
been  working  overtime  in  a  box  factory, 
making  up  pasteboard  cases  for  the 
holiday  trade.  Gertrude  was  not 
39 


Miss 


strong.  She  sat  all  day  and  most  of 
the  evening  in  a  low,  close  room, 
smearing  paste.  The  paste  grew  sour 
and  the  smell  of  it  sickened  her  so 
that  she  could  hardly  eat  even  the 
cold  lunch  she  took  with  her  or  the 
hot  supper  for  which  the  company 
generously  allowed  the  workers  fifteen 
cents  a  day.  Gertrude's  skin  looked 
like  her  own  paste.  And  she  should 
have  been  beautiful. 

In  the  next  room  the  next  younger 
and  the  }^oungest  sisters  slept.  The 
younger  sister  was  Claryce,  originally 
Clara,  who  was  paid  all  of  five  dollars 
a  week  for  merely  loitering  in  a  candy 
store  from  8  A.  M.  to  8  P.  M.  The 
youngest  sister,  Bridget,  had  not  yet 
accepted  a  position.  She  was  only  five 
years  old  ;  she  was  too  young  even  to 

have  changed  her  given  name. 
40 


"On    Fameer 


In  the  room  beyond,  the  twins  were 
two  more  dead  logs  of  sleep — Pat  and 
Nat.  Pat  was  a  messenger  boy  of  the 
usual  learned  type.  Nat  had  been  a 
messenger  boy,  but  he  had  fought  too 
hard  and  too  often.  And  now  for  some 
three  months  he  had  been  earning  sixty 
cents  a  week  by  spending  ten  or  twelve 
hours  a  day  pasting  coloured  pictures 
of  Santa  Glaus  on  Christmas  boxes. 
Nat  knew  that  Christmas  was  coming. 
He  had  his  opinion  of  Santa  Claus  and 
expressed  it.  It  would  hardly  quote 
well  here.  Nat  had  been  a  messenger 
boy. 

On  a  cot  in  this  same  room  was  the 
seven-year-old  Michael.  He  was  not 
working,  except  for  an  occasional  foray 
into  the  newspaper  business. 

In  the  last  room  of  all  slept  the 
author  and  authoress  of  this  generous 
41 


-   Miss    318  . 

and  industrious  flock  :  Mr.  Dennis 
Mooney,  an  able  expressman,  charioteer 
of  a  noble  van  ;  and  Mrs.  Cordelia 
Mooney,  deft  seamstress,  housekeeper 
and  dictatrix  of  the  family,  except  when 
the  eldest  daughter,  Lisette,  formerly 
Lizzie,  was  home  from  the  shop. 

Lisette  had  collected  wages  since  she 
had  reached  the  age  of  nine ;  for  she 
dated  back  of  the  most  recent  child-la 
bour  laws.  She  had  surely  earned  the 
right  to  spell  her  given  name  as  she 
pleased.  But  she  had  never  gained 
the  privilege  of  spelling  her  last  name 
anything  but  Mooney.  She  thought 
that  Mrs.  Lisette  Sterling  would  be  "  a 
swell  monaker."  She  wondered  if  she 
couldn't  make  it.  She  wondered  also 
if  she  could  live  through  another 
Christmas  ordeal  at  the  Mammoth. 

Every  Christmas  for  five  years  she 

42 


"  On    Fameel" 


had  made  herself  a  present  of  a  solemn 
resolution  that  she  would  never  face 
another  Yuletide  from  behind  a  counter. 
And  here  she  was  again — still  unmar 
ried,  still  under  the  lash  and  yoke  of 
necessity. 

Mr.  Sterling  had  held  her  hand  and 
squeezed  it  hard  to-night.  Perhaps — 
who  could  tell  ?  Give  her  only  a  few 
more  evenings  in  his  society  and  she 
might  convince  him  that  she  was  a 
bargain  worth  nabbing. 


43 


HEE  GUEST 

INSTEAD  of  sleeping  as  late  as  a 
sultana  the  next  morning  Miss 
Mooney  was  up  with  the  milk 
man.  All  the  long  forenoon  of  her 
holiday  she  toiled  harder  than  at  the 
Mammoth.  Her  poor  feet  had  no 
cause  for  giving  thanks.  She  drove 
them  up  and  down  the  stairs  again  and 
again,  along  the  streets  to  the  delica 
tessen  and  the  fruit  store,  and  even  to 
the  florist's  for  a  pathetic  flower  or  two 
to  grace  the  board  for  her  prospective 
bridegroom.  Yet,  for  all  her  extrava 
gance,  she  was  discouraged  at  the  re 
sult.  She  dreaded  the  opinion  the 
aristocratic  floor-walker  must  form  of  a 
44 


—  Her    Guest  — 

home  which  even  she  found  harrow- 
ingly  unrefined. 

While  she  was  cooking  the  meal  and 
adorning  the  table  and  setting  the  house 
to  rights,  she  had  the  rest  of  the  family 
flying  in  all  directions.  Between  com 
mands  she  gave  lessons  in  table  deport 
ment.  With  all  the  irreverence  of 
American  juniority,  she  scolded  her 
meek  and  blunderful  parents. 

"  Say,  paw,  wrastle  another  scuttle  o' 
coal,  will  you  ?  When  you  come  to  the 
table  to-day  I  ask  you,  as  one  last 
favour  to  me,  to  keep  your  coat  on ; 
and  if  you'll  wear  a  collar  I'll  thank 
yuh  to  my  dying  day."  Paw  prom 
ised. 

"  And,  maw,  will  you  oblige  me  by 

rollin'  your   sleeves   down    when   you 

begin  to  eat  ?      And,    if  it    ain't    too 

much  trouble,  would  you  mind  cuttin' 

45 


-   Miss    318  - 

out  that  knife-swallerin'  act  you  do  ? 
If  they's  anything  gets  on  the  noives  of 
a  jepman  of  refinement  it  is  to  see  a 
lady  pokin'  a  knife  into  her  face.  Stick 
to  the  fork,  maw — stick  to  the  fork, 
for  Gawsay — just  this  once." 

The  father  ventured  a  protest : 
"  Seems  to  me,  Lizzie 

"  And,  for  Gawsay,  don't  call  me 
Lizzie.  Either  call  me  Lisette  or  throw 
somep'n  at  me." 

The  family  took  its  orders  like  an 
awkward  squad  receiving  technical  in 
struction  it  could  neither  understand 
nor  perform,  and  Lisette  regretted  that 
she  had  ever  risked  a  guest. 

Everybody  was  thoroughly  miserable 
and  when  Mr.  Sterling  arrived  he  kept 
it  unanimous.  The  commonplaceness 
of  the  conversation  was  as  depressing  as 

its  delivery  was  elaborate.     A  congress 
46 


o 

— 


U 

e/j 

~ 

- 


—  Her    Guest  =: 

of  prime  ministers  could  hardly  have 
laboured  for  more  dignity. 

It  was  with  all  the  flourish  of  a  cos 
tume  play  that  Lisette  commanded : 
"  Maw,  whyn't  you  pass  paw  Mr.  Stoi- 
ling's  plate  so's  to  give  um  s'more 
goose  ?  " 

It  was  Claude  Duval  who  answered  : 
"  Oh,  no,  no.  I  thank  you.  I  would 
not  wish  for  any." 

It  was  the  Lady  of  Lyons  who  en 
treated  :  "  Some  of  the  tomattus,  then  ?" 

It  was  Sir  Hubert  Stanley  who  re 
plied  :  "  Thanks,  I  never  use  tomattus." 

It  was  Lady  Jane  who  sighed  :  "  Why, 
you  don't  eat  enough  to  keep  a  boid 
alive." 

Lisette  thought  it  becoming  in  a 
hostess  to  deprecate  her  hospitality,  and 
she  was  saying  : 

"  I  guess,  Mr.  Stoiling,  you  was  ex- 
47 


-   Miss    318  ~ 

pectin'  toikey,  and  I  had  my  hopes  up 
too  ;  but  with  toikeys  sellin'  at  a  mil 
lion  dollars  a  pound  I  couldn't  quite 
reach  it." 

"  I  dearly  love  goose,"  said  Mr. 
Sterling  amiably. 

To  Lisette's  dismay  her  mother,  who 
had  pursued  a  safe  and  sane  policy  of 
silence,  was  moved  to  speech. 

"  Goose  is  a  heap  better'n  nothing" 
she  insisted,  deftly  swashing  her  coffee 
round  in  the  saucer.  "  We  ought  to  be 
thankful  to  have  it." 

This  resignation  did  not  suit  brother 
Pat,  who  was  already  a  promising  social 
disruptionist. 

"  Aw,  whatta  we  gotta  be  t'ankful 
fer?  "  he  growled.  "  We're  all  woikin' 
like  a  gang  of  convicks  whilst  dem  rich 
guys  is  swellin'  round  in  ottermobiles 

an'  eatin'  deir  toikeys  t'ree  times  a  day. 
48 


—  Her    Guest  — 

Say,  wat's  de  uset  of  havin'  T'anksgiv- 
in',  annyway,  when  all  you  gotta  be 
t'ankful  fer  is  dat  yer  goose  ain't  a 
lemon  ?  " 

His  mother,  made  patient  by  a  life 
time  among  the  always  poor,  gazed  at 
him  sadly  : 

"  Always  remember,  Patsy,  that  in 
this  here  world  there's  always  some- 
buddy  worse  off'n  what  you  are." 

"  Well,  dat's  a  lot  of  comfort,  I  don't 
t'ink.  But  where  are  dey  ?  Where  are 
dey  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  In  this  very  house.  Right  over 
head,  if  you  want  to  know.  I  seen 
Mrs.  Crilley  the  mornin'  and  she  was 
wringin'  her  hands  and  cryin'  because 
she  smelt  our  goose  cookin'  ;  and  she 
says,  *  It's  lucky  you  are,  Mrs.  Mooney,' 
she  says,  '  to  be  livin'  so  high  ;  we  ain't 
got  no  meat  at  all  I '  s'she.  It's  tur- 
49 


-   Miss    318  === 

rible.  Here,  Claryce,  run  up-stairs 
with  the  leavin's  of  this  fowl — unless 
Mr.  Stoiling  wants  some  more." 

Mr.  Sterling  disclaimed  any  desire  to 
deprive  the  starving  of  a  meal. 

Lisette  gave  a  start  of  remorse.  "  Wait 
a  minute,  Claryce,"  she  said.  "  Say, 
Mr.  Stoiling,  that  renames  me.  Moitle 
Crilley  was  saying  to  me  yestiddy  she'd 
like  a  p'sition  in  the  Mammoth.  Know- 
in'  they'd  be  needin'  a  lot  of  extry 
hands  for  the  Christmus  rush,  I  thought 
maybe  she'd  have  a  chance ;  and, 
knowin'  how  well  you  stand  with  the 
foim,I  told  herl'dspeaktoyouaboutit." 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Sterling  gal 
lantly.  "  I  should  be  glad  to  recom 
mend  any  friend  of  yours." 

"  Fine ! "      cried      Lisette.        "  Say, 
Claryce,  when  you  take  up  that  goose 
bring  Moitle  back  with  you." 
So 


So  exquisite  a  creature  as  the  timid  statuette  of  pathos  on 
the  door  sill. 


—  Her    Guest  — 

While  they  waited  Miss  Mooney  de 
scribed  her  protegee  with  enthusiasm 
and  pleaded  her  cause.  When  Myrtle 
arrived  at  the  door  her  beauty  pleaded 
for  itself  with  an  eloquence  Mr.  Ster 
ling  could  not  resist. 

He  thought  he  had  never  seen  so  ex 
quisite  a  creature  as  the  timid  statuette 
of  pathos  on  the  door-sill.  Of  none  too 
robust  a  nature,  he  felt  that  here  at  last 
was  a  woman  who  would  lean  on  him 
and  find  him  strong.  Miss  Mooney  was 
nice — very  nice — but  so  very  inde 
pendent.  It  did  him  proud  to  appear 
as  the  rescuer  of  somebody  from  some 
thing  ;  in  fact,  when  Myrtle,  encour 
aged  by  his  wide-eyed  admiration,  told 
him  of  the  family's  dire  estate,  with 
rent  three  months  overdue,  grocer  and 
butcher  threatening  to  cut  off  credit, 
and  idleness  disabling  the  whole  house- 
Si 


—   Miss    318  — 

hold,  a  wild  inspiration  came  to  him  to 
rescue  the  entire  lot. 

In  his  own  domain  Mr.  Sterling  was 
a  man  of  resource  and  decision. 

"  Let  me  see,  Miss  Crilley,"  he  pon 
dered  aloud  impressively  ;  "  perhaps  I 
can  find  a  place  for  all  of  you.  Your 
father,  you  say,  is  a  good  carpenter? 
We  could  put  him  in  our  packing  and 
shipping  department.  Your  mother,  I 
believe  you  said,  is  an  excellent  scrub- 
lady  ?  I  can  find  room  for  her,  I'm 
sure,  if  she  will  consent  to  night  work. 
You,  of  course,  can  count  on  a  place  in 
one  of  the  sales  departments  where  the 
work  is  not  too  difficult.  You  have 
brothers,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Two  brothers,  sir  ;  and  two  sisters. 

My  brother  John — he's  older'n  I  am, 

but  he's  got  a  job.     He's  a  mail-carrier, 

but  he  isn't  any  help  because  he  got 

52 


nzmzuzzmi  Her    Guest  

married  soon's  he  got  his  uniform. 
My  next  brother  is  Jimmie ;  he's  fif 
teen." 

"  He  could  probably  be  a  bin-boy. 
And  your  sisters  ?  " 

"  There's  Alice  and  Maude.  Alice  is 
fourteen,  but  Maude  is  only  twelve." 

"  Alice  could  be  a  cash-girl,"  said  the 
Napoleonic  Sterling ;  "  but  Maude — 
I'm  afraid  the  child-labour  law  would 
forbid  our  using  her." 

"  Oh,  but  maw  can  make  a  affidavit 
that  she's  fourteen  !  She's  done  that 
before." 

"  Well,  of  course,  as  a  conscientious 
man  I  could  not  advise  that ;  but  if 
your  mother  wishes  to  take  the  respon 
sibility  I  have  no  way  of  proving  her 
affidavit  false.  We  might  place  little 
Maudie  as  a  gatherer." 

Myrtle  was  fairly  dancing  with  rap- 
53 


-   Miss    318  - 

ture.  Nothing  would  do  but  that  Mr. 
Sterling  should  come  up  and  explain 
his  bounty  in  person.  Such  an  en 
trance  in  the  guise  of  a  wholesale  de 
liverer  would  have  tempted  a  stronger 
man  than  Mr.  Percival  Sterling.  Ex 
cusing  himself — "  for  just  a  moment, 
please " — he  vanished  in  Myrtle's 
wake. 

The  Mooneys,  seeing  their  guest  of 
honour  translated  aloft  by  their  neigh 
bour,  gazed  at  one  another  dismayed. 
Lisette  bit  her  lip  in  vexation  and  anx 
iety. 

Pat  spoke  up  first :  "  Say,  dat  Stoi- 
ling  guy  is  goiii'  to  adopt  de  whole  dam 
family.  Better  watch  out,  sis,  or 
Moitle'll  steal  him  off  you.  I  seen  her 
give  him  de  goo-goo  eye.  Shall  I  go 
up  and  bring  him  back  for  you  ?  " 

Lisette  had  just  pride  enough  left  to 
54 


—  Her    Guest  — 

retort :  "  Long  as  it  don't  consoin  you, 
Pat,  you'd  oblige  me  by  keeping  your 
head  shut.  If  I  need  a  messenger  I'll 
ring  fer  one." 

Nobody  else  dared  speak  at  all  and 
the  family  sat  breathless,  dreading 
the  possibility  of  seeing  Lisette's  beau 
kidnapped  and  all  that  feast  and  for 
mality  wasted.  Lisette  did  not  take  the 
expense  of  the  banquet  into  account, 
but  she  had  no  lovers  to  waste  and  her 
young  hope  was  writhing  with  infantile 
paralysis. 

It  was  long  and  it  seemed  longer  be 
fore  Mr.  Sterling  returned.  Myrtle  re 
turned  with  him.  She  was  leaning  on 
his  arm  and  she  showed  a  proprietary 
interest  in  him.  She  sat  down  and 
stayed  as  long  as  he  stayed,  and  the 
conversation  was  all  of  her  own  direc 
tion.  It  chiefly  concerned  her  new 
55 


-    Miss    318  ~ 

duties  in  the  Mammoth.  Mr.  Sterling 
described  them  to  her  in  great  detail, 
with  an  occasional  side  remark  to 
Lisette. 

As  Pat  remarked  to  Nat :  "  We  give 
dem  Crilleys  our  goose,  and  now  dey're 
pinchin'  our  gander." 


VI 

WEAKY  FEET 

A  COLOSSAL   Santa  Glaus  pub 
lished  an  enormous  smile  from 
his  station   in   the  rotunda  of 
the  Mammoth  Shop.     Save  for  his  gi 
gantic  size  he  was  the  usual  fat-cheeked, 
rosy-nosed,  snowy-whiskered,  balloon- 
bellied  old  rogue,  with  the  usual  pack 
of  gifts  on  his  back.     Around  his  ped 
estal  his  festival  was  preparing. 

The  Christmas  season  was  now  in  full 
swing.  The  holiday  numbers  of  the 
magazines  had  already  lost  their  nov 
elty  on  the  stands.  The  sidewalks  were 
packed  with  shoppers.  The  curbs 
were  fringed  with  toy-merchants.  On 
every  corner  a  Salvation  Army  Kriss 
57 


-  Miss    318  - 

Kringle  shivered  and  pleaded  for  pen 
nies.  There  had  been  one  or  two  flur 
ries  of  snow,  and  everybody  was  hoping 
for  a  white  Christmas. 

It  was  some  days  since  the  Crilley 
family  had  been  recruited  entire  into  the 
service  of  the  Mammoth,  along  with  a 
small  army  of  other  deputies  enlisted  to 
appease  the  increasing  crowds.  Every 
day  the  aisles  grew  more  impacted. 
Every  day  the  problems  of  display, 
sale  and  delivery  became  more  difficult 
and  more  pressing.  Every  day  it  grew 
harder  to  spare  a  single  hand  for  a 
single  moment.  Every  day  the  tension 
increased. 

It  was  three  o'clock  one  afternoon 
before  Miss  Mooney  dared  attempt  to 
escape  for  her  luncheon,  such  as  it  was. 
In  the  restaurant  she  found  Myrtle 

Crilley  crumpled  on  a  chair  and  ashen 
53 


W  p  ary 


with  exhaustion.  The  veteran's  heart 
warmed  to  the  newcomer,  but  it  was 
Lisette's  way  to  disguise  her  beautiful 
sentiments  under  an  acidulous  man 
ner  : 

"  Whattaya  eatin',  dearie  ?  Ice-cream 
and  a  ham  san'wich  I  Whyn't  you 
have  some  sense  about  your  food?  " 

"  I'm  too  tired  even  for  this,"  the 
girl  moaned.  "  I  got  to  hurry  back 
too." 

"  It's  fierce  the  way  they  treat  us 
goils,"  Miss  Mooney  snapped.  "  When 
I  begun  to  get  faint  I  says  to  that  tall, 
blond  floor-walker  —  Peebles  his  name 
is  —  I  says  to  him,  '  I  gotta  get  a  bite  of 
somep'n  inside  my  belt  or  I  do  a  flop 
right  cheer  and  now.'  And  whattaya 
suppose  he  hands  me  ?  '  Oh,  all  right  ! 
but  be  quick  about  it,'  he  says.  What 
taya  know  about  that?  The  noive 
59 


-  Miss    318  - 

of  urn  !  Me  standin'  there  on  me  pins, 
jugglin'  bundles  and  change,  and  hu- 
mourin'  them  female  hyenas  for  seven 
hours  straight,  and  he  begrudges  me  me 
lunch !  I  hadda  make  a  nawful  rush 
to  get  here  this  morning  too.  I  just 
grabbed  a  cuppa  cawfee  and  a  fried 
egg  at  home  at  seven  o'clock  and  run 
four  blocks  for  a  car,  stood  up  all  the 
way  down  and  got  to  my  kennel  at 
eight  sharp — and  there  I  been  all  this 
time ;  and  when  the  floor  begins  to 
wobble  and  I  says  to  him,  '  Do  I  eat  or 
do  I  die  ?  '  he  has  the  front  to  slip  me  a 
hurry-up.  Can  you  beat  it  ?  " 

She  was  angrier  than  she  was  tired. 

"  I  was  fifteen  minutes  late  this 
morning,"  said  Myrtle,  "  and  they  fined 
me.  I've  stood  there  on  my  feet  ever 
since.  My  back  is  just  absolutely 

broke  ;  and  my  feet — oh,  heavens,  my 
60 


W  p  ary 


poor  feet  I  I  sat  down  two  or  three 
times,  but  every  time  I  did  a  customer 
glared  at  me  or  a  floor-walker  motioned 
me  to  stand  up." 

"  That's  the  way  of  it,"  said  Miss 
Mooney.  "  The  lor  says  they  gotta 
have  one  seat  for  every  three  goils,  but 
the  floor-walkers  thinks  it  spoils  the 
looks  of  the  store  to  see  the  cloiks  set- 
tin'  down.  I  feel  sometimes  as  if  I'd 
have  to  loin  to  stand  on  me  head  and 
wait  on  the  folks  with  me  toes,  so's  to 
give  the  soles  of  me  feet  a  rest." 

Myrtle  went  on  with  her  own  trou 
bles: 

"  Finally  I  got  so  tired  I  wished  I 
might  die  ;  I  asked  four  different  floor 
walkers  for  permission  to  be  excused 
for  lunch,  and  not  one  of  them  would 
leave  me  go." 

"  How'd    you    manage  ?    Sneak    it 
61 


-  Miss    318  - 

anyway  ?  "  Miss  Mooney  asked,  with  a 
dreary  smile  that  faded  to  nothing  as 
Myrtle  explained : 

"  No ;  Mr.  Sterling  come  by  and  I 
asked  him,  and  he  says  :  '  Why,  cer 
tainly,  Miss  Crilley.  You  look  awful 
tired.'  Yes,  he  did.  He's  a  tumble 
nice  man,  ain't  he  ?  " 

"  Tumble !  "  echoed  Miss  Mooney. 

Then,  with  briskness,  she  gathered 
her  aches  and  pains  together.  "  Come 
along — it's  back  to  the  mines  for  ours." 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  even  step  on 
my  feet  at  all,"  whimpered  Miss  Crilley, 
and  Miss  Mooney  forgot  to  be  jealous. 
She  picked  her  up  and  supported  her 
out. 

"  Get  busy,  Moitle :  don't  lay  down 
now.  Cheer  up — the  woist  is  yet  to 
come.  Remember  there's  thousands 

and  thousands  of  just  as  sore  feet  as 
62 


Weary 


yours  doin'  their  woik  just  the  same. 
My  own  Trilbies  ain't  singin'  no  psalms. 
Most  of  the  extry  commissions  I  make 
goes  to  the  chiropodist.  What  kind  of 
foot  powder  do  you  use  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  used  any." 

"  Well,  you  gotta  get  foot  powder, 
whether  you  have  face  powder  or  not. 
I'll  lend  you  a  couple  o'  sprinkles  of 
mine  for  to-day.  That'll  help  some." 

With  this  promise,  Myrtle  succeeded 
in  hobbling  from  the  restaurant.  Just 
outside  the  door  was  the  railed  balcony 
of  the  rotunda. 


VII 
YULE  THOUGHTS 

A  NOISE  came  up  from  the  crowd 
like  the  menacing  clamour  of 
a  sea.     The  two  women  paused 
to  look  down  on  the  turmoil. 

"  Look  at  'em  ! "  said  Miss  Mooney. 
"  If  you  was  a  stranger  from  Mars,  or 
some  of  them  foreign  parts,  and  you 
come  here  and  seen  a  sight  like  that, 
you'd  say,  '  What  are  they  all  so  mad 
about?  Are  they  goin'  to  lynch  some 
body  or  are  they  fighting  among  them 
selves  ?  '  Then,  if  anybody  was  to  tell 
you,  '  Oh,  no  !  they're  gettin'  ready  for 
a  religious  celebration  and  they're  just 
buyin'  a  few  presents  for  each  other  to 
show  their  good-will  and  brotherly 

love,'  you'd  say,  '  Come  off  the  poich  ! 
64 


—  Tule  Thoughts  =. 

You  can't  fool  me;  everybody  down 
there  hates  everybody  else  and  has 
moider  in  their  hearts.  Whyn't  the 
police  do  something  ? '  That's  what 
you'd  say  if  you  hadn't  been  brung  up 
on  this." 

Myrtle  was  content  just  to  lean  on 
the  railing,  too  weary  for  philosophy. 
Miss  Mooney  thought  on  aloud.  From 
their  height  they  looked  almost  into 
the  face  of  the  towering  Santa  Glaus. 

"  If  that  was  a  statue  of  Old  Nick  it 
would  be  more  like  what's  goin'  on  be 
low.  Look  at  that  big  bluff — made  out 
of  paper-musshay  and  holler  inside ! 
For  five  years  I've  sor  him,  or  one  like 
him,  put  up  there.  He's  always  fat 
and  he  always  grins  ;  but  he's  the  orig 
inal  con.  man  and  I'd  like  to  swat  him 
in  the  map  with  a  rollin'-pin. 

"  Down  there  it's  always  the  same 
65 


:   Miss    318  - 

old  battle.  If  the  shoppers  wasn't  so 
mean  to  us  goils — and  to  each  other— 
I'd  get  sorry  for  them.  Some  of  the 
dames  looks  so  tired,  and  they  can't 
make  up  their  minds  what  to  buy  or 
who  to  buy  it  for ;  and  they  take  the 
money  they  can't  afford  and  grab  off 
a  lot  of  stuff  to  give  to  somebody  who 
don't  want  it,  and  in  retoin  they  get  a 
stack  of  junk  they  can't  use.  Wouldn't 
it  frost  you  ? 

"  Christmus  means  three  weeks  of 
infoinal  misery  for  everybody  and  one 
long  day  of  tryin'  to  look  all  to  the 
merry  when  you're  all  to  the  mustard." 

Myrtle  was  moved  to  suggest :  "  It's 
nice  for  the  childern,  though." 

"  Oh,  yes — for  the  childern  that  gets 
the  toys  and  the  stummickache  !  But 
what  about  the  childern  that  wraps 

up  the  toys  and  don't  get  any  ?     And 
66 


—  Yule  Thoughts  — 

the  messenger  kids  and  the  swarms  of 
other  wore-out  childern  that  has  to  de 
liver  the  toys  ?  But,  even  at  that,  the 
kids  has  their  rights.  I  always  give 
'em  what  I  can  m'self.  Oh,  they  useta 
be  a  nice  idea  about  Christmus,  but  I 
guess  it  got  lost  in  the  wash  !  It's  like 
boinin'  down  the  house  so's  to  make  a 
pretty  fire  in  the  grate. 

"  Keep  your  eye  on  the  crowds ;  and 
for  every  kind  woid  you  hear  spoke 
and  every  Christmassy  thought  you 
hear  thunk  I'll  give  you  a  nine-dollar 
bill. 

"  This  morning  a  mother  and  a 
daughter  hangs  round  my  counter  till 
I  come  near  askin'  'em  did  they  want 
to  take  a  room  by  the  week.  They 
clawed  and  pawed  and  jawed — but 
nothin'  doin'  on  the  buy.  Finally  they 
toins  on  each  other  and  the  old  dame 
67 


-  Miss    318  •===. 

says,  '  Gabrielle,  if  you  don't  decide 
what  you  want  and  let  me  know  I'll 
never  speak  to  you  again  ! '  And  the 
daughter  says,  '  Mamma  ' — with  the 
accent  on  the  second  '  ma  ' — you  could 
see  they  was  swells — '  Mamma,'  she 
says,  '  I  don't  want  a  blamed  thing  ex 
cept  for  you  to  go  home  and  lay  down  ; 
but  before  you  go,  for  Gawd's  sake  tell 
me  what  you'd  like  for  a  Christmas 
present ! ' 

"  Then  Mamma  says,  '  If  you  get  me 
anything  I'll  scream  ' ;  and  Gabrielle 
says,  '  Let's  not  give  each  other  noth- 
in'.'  She  had  some  sense,  that  goil. 
But  Mamma  was  consoivative  and  she 
says  :  '  We  gotta  give  each  other  some- 
p'n.  We  just  gotta.  It  would  look  so 
strange  notta.'  And  they  come  back 
to  my  counter.  They  was  still  there 

when  I  ducked. 

68 


—  Yule  Thoughts  = 

"  The  whole  store's  that  way.  The 
whole  town's  one  big  lunatic  asylum. 
Every  December  the  whole  woild  goes 
bughouse." 

If  her  tirade  was  bitter,  was  she  not 
justified  by  bitter  experience?  If  her 
spirit  was  not  gentle,  is  the  blame  hers  ? 
or  theirs — ours  ! — who  have  turned  the 
most  beautiful  of  holidays  into  a  season 
of  world-wide  exhaustion,  and  have 
chosen  the  festival  of  the  tender,  the 
pitiful,  the  meek,  the  lowly  Christ  for 
a  saturnalia  of  riot,  cruelty,  ostentation 
and  waste  ?  If  the  soul  of  the  feast  is 
ever  to  be  restored  to  it,  must  it  not 
prove  itself  first  by  showing  mercy  to 
the  victims  of  its  perversion  ? 

Myrtle  shuddered  at  Lisette's  sacri 
lege,  but  she  was  too  feeble  to  defend 
the  venerable  rites.  Miss  Mooney, 

revelling  in  the  luxury  of  escaping  the 
69  ' 


=  Miss    318  - 

usual  counter  conversation  for  a  while, 
preached  on  : 

"  It's  bad  enough  what  the  buyers 
suffer.  But  Christmus  from  the  inside 
—well,  just  wait!  If  you  last  till 
Christmus  Eve  you'll  see  sights  that'll 
make  you  wisht  you  was  a  Chinaman. 
This  store  will  be  like  the  battle  of 
Gettysboig  the  last  three  days.  They're 
only  skoimishin'  now.  It's  ghassly, 
Moitle — it's  absolutely  ghassly  !  " 

With  the  dogged  stubbornness  of  the 
overdriven,  Myrtle  persisted  : 

"  Still  it  would  be  a  pity  to  give  up 
Christmas,  I  think." 

"  Well,  you  got  another  think  comin'. 
If  all  this  time  and  money  and  woik 
was  spent  on  something  useful,  and 
spread  over  the  year,  it  would  give 
thousands  of  poor  dubs  jobs  all  the 

time,  instead  of  grindin'  'em  to  death 
70 


"This  store  will  be  like  the  battle  of  Gettysboig  the  last  three  days." 


•  Tule  Thoughts  — 

for  three  weeks  in  the  name  of  re 
ligion. 

"  And  keep  on  rememberin'  that  this 
store  is  only  one  drop  in  the  bucket, 
and  you  and  me  are  only  a  couple  o' 
microbes.  I'm  Number  318  and  you're 
B  726.  If  you  can  imagine  about  a 
billion  heads  as  feverish  as  yours  and  a 
billion  feet  as  lame,  and  a  billion  tons 
of  them  achin'  backs,  and  a  couple  o' 
billion  mobs  draggin'  sore  feet  and  sore 
heads  through  the  stores,  spendin'  their 
dough  foolish  and  to  no  poipose,  you'll 
get  a  line  on  Christmus  as  she  really 
is.  Take  it  from  me,  Christmus  is  a 
crime.  They  otta  be  a  lor  against  it." 

And  then  one  of  the  overseers  ended 
the  tirade  with  a  gruff  rebuke  : 

"  Say,  do  you  ladies  think  you're 
lolling  on  a  recreation  pier?" 

"  Why,   Mr.   Hoishboig,"  said   Miss 


=:  Miss    318  ~ 

Mooney  spunkily,  "  ain't  we  got  a  right 
to  take  a  peek  at  the  slaughter-house  ?  " 
But  the  junior  partner,  seeing  it  was 
Miss  Mooney  he  had  provoked,  was 
gone.  He  was  distracted  enough  with 
the  effort  to  keep  the  stock  replenished, 
the  sales  delivered  and  the  prices 
aligned  with  the  prices  of  rivals.  He 
regretted  the  sufferings  of  his  people  as 
a  general  regrets  the  destruction  of  his 
troops  ;  but  he  must  serve  the  whims  of 
the  public,  and  the  public  had  gone 
mad. 


VIII 
AFTEE  DAEK 

SOMEHOW  Myrtle  Crilley  lived 
through  the  ages  until  the  store 
let  its  portcullis  fall  for  the  night, 
but  the  crew  of  the  Mammoth  did  not 
go  home.  Behind  the  locked  doors, 
and  the  curtains  drawn  back  of  the 
show-window  splendour,  the  sales 
women  were  kept  busy  for  hours,  re 
storing  order  from  the  chaos,  refurbish 
ing  the  shelves  and  rearranging  the 
stock  for  the  morrow. 

The  expert  Miss  Mooney  was  one  of 
the  first  to  finish  her  duties.  She 
passed  the  counter  where  Myrtle  was 
still  awkwardly  fumbling  with  her  own 
tasks.  Other  clerks  had  given  the 
pretty  maid  a  look  or  a  word  of  sym- 
73 


-  Miss    318   ===== 

pathy  or  advice — and  passed  by  on  the 
other  side.  Miss  Mooney  berated  her 
for  an  ignoramus  and  a  gawk,  but 
paused  to  help  her. 

With  arms  that  ached  from  lifting 
boxes  and  bolts  from  the  shelves,  and 
fingers  that  were  cramped  with  over 
work,  she  had  time  to  help  another. 

She  did  it  with  a  bad  grace,  but  she 
got  it  done.  That  was  Miss  Mooney  : 
sharp  of  tongue,  but  Samaritan  of 
hand.  Myrtle  hated  her  for  her  bad 
temper,  but  accepted  her  aid  and 
graciously  consented  to  permit  Miss 
Mooney  to  take  her  home.  She  fell 
asleep  on  Miss  Mooney's  shoulder  in 
the  street  car. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  they 

reached    their   street.     Myrtle   limped 

miserably.     Miss  Mooney  took  her  arm 

in  her  own  aching  arm  and  boosted  her. 

74 


After 


Myrtle  was  crying  and  Miss  Mooney 
was  candidly  disgusted. 

"  The  worst  of  it  is,"  said  the  forlorn 
girl,  "  that  I've  got  to  get  up  so  early 
to  reach  the  store  on  time  to-morrow 
morning.  I'm  killing  myself  and  what 
do  I  get  out  of  it  ?  —  four  dollars  a 
week  I  And  I've  got  to  pay  for  two 
meals  a  day  besides  sixty  cents  for  car 
fare." 

"  Seventy  cents,"  Miss  Mooney  cor 
rected.  "  From  now  on  we  gotta  show 
up  Sundays  too." 

"  Oh,  great  heavens  !  Take  me  to 
the  cemetery  and  be  done  with  it." 

Miss  Mooney  laughed  bitterly.  "  We 
ain't  got  time  for  funerals  till  after 
Christmas." 

They  hobbled  on  down  the  lonely, 
dark  street.     Abruptly  Myrtle  paused, 
with  sudden  alarm. 
75 


-   Miss    318  - 

"  There  he  is  again  !  " 

"  There  who  is  again  ?  Are  you  see 
ing  things  a'ready  ?  " 

"  Look  1 — that  man  waiting  by  the 
lamp-post  I  He's  been  there  the  last 
three  nights  and  he's  spoken  to  me 
every  time." 

A  quiver  of  nausea  at  this  old,  inevi 
table  phase  of  city  life  went  through 
Miss  Mooney.  "  Have  you  spoken  to 
him?" 

"  No  ;  I've  been  too  scared.  But  he 
walks  alongside  and  tells  me  how  pretty 
I  am.  Last  night  he  said  I  was  too 
pretty  to  be  out  so  late  by  myself.  And 
he  says  he  could  tell  I'd  been  workin' 
too  hard.  And  he  says  I  was  too  pretty 
to  work." 

"  Don't  slip  your  trolley,  Moitle. 
Remember,  it  was  pretty  dark  when  he 

seen   you.     We   all   look  good  in  the 
76 


-  After     D/7r£ 

gloaming.  You  may  be  pretty — it's  a 
matter  of  taste ;  but  I  ain't  seen  no 
managers  on  your  door-step  beggin' 
you  to  understudy  Lillian  or  Maxine. 
What  did  you  say  to  the  dawg  ?  " 

"  I  was  too  scared  to  say  anything 
to  him,  I  tell  you." 

"  Ah,  whyn't  you  hand  him  a  brick 
in  thejor?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  he  was  awful  polite 
and — you  can't  hit  a  man  for  tellin' 
you  you're  pretty,  can  you  ?  " 

"  That  depends  on  the  time,  the  place 
and  the  goil — and  the  nasty  way  he  says 
it.  I've  even  had  'em  callin'  me  a 
queen.  It  was  some  darker  than  this. 
But  you  let  me  talk  to  this  jepman. 
Come  along !  " 

She  dragged  the  terrified,  yet  not  al 
together  bored,  young  woman  forward. 
The  shadowy  saunterer  hesitated  at  the 
77 


—  Miss   318  — 

sight  of  the  twain,  but  ventured  to  fol 
low  and  at  length  to  come  alongside 
with  an  ingratiating  : 

"  Good-evening,  ladies  !  " 

Miss  Mooney  whirled  on  him, 
whipped  a  hatpin  from  her  hair  and 
exclaimed,  with  militant  if  not  elegant 
dignity : 

"  You  speak  to  us  again,  and  I'll 
lose  this  hatpin  in  you.  Us  goils  is 
ladies,  and  I  warn  you  to  keep  offen 
our  street.  Foithermore,  I  know  just 
who  you  are  and  I'm  going  to  put  your 
wife  wise  to  you,  you " 

But  he  had  dissolved  from  view. 
Myrtle  stared  at  the  vacuous  dark  and 
gasped  : 

"  How  did  you  come  to  know  him  ?  " 

"  I  never  sor  him  before." 

"  Then  how'd  you  know  he  had  a 
wife  ?  " 

78 


'You  speak  to  us  again,  and  I'll  lose  this  hat  pin  in  you !' 


-After     Dark 

"  I  just  took  a  chance." 

Myrtle  shook  her  head  in  envy  of 
Miss  Mooney's  great  intellect,  and 
walked  on.  At  the  front  door  she 
sighed : 

"  The  streets  are  awful  dangerous, 
ain't  they?" 

Miss  Mooney  sniffed.  "  They're  no 
more  dangerous  than  a  droring-room — 
for  a  goil  that's  got  a  hatpin  and  a  wad 
of  gumption.  The  question  always  is, 
Are  you  sincere  ?  You  know  the  toon 
— Are  you  sincere  ?  " 


79 


IX 

DUBS  AND  DUDS 

AND  the  morrow  was  another 
day ;  another  day  of  goaded 
muscles  and  harrowed  spirits. 
Again  it  was  nearly  midnight  when 
the  footsore,  heartsore,  back-sore,  nerve- 
sore  women  slumped  down  the  street. 
This  time  they  were  unaccosted.  Both 
were  a  trifle  disappointed.  Lisette 
needed  a  little  adventure  as  a  stimulant 
to  her  fagged  spirits  ;  Myrtle  needed  a 
little  flattery  after  listening  all  day  to 
nagging  complaints  and  rebukes. 

They  made  the  first  flight  of  stairs 
with  labour.  Half-way  up  the  second, 
Myrtle  sank  on  the  step  to  rest  and  to 

complain  in  a  low  murmur  : 
80 


Duf>s  and  Duds : 


"  I  don't  know  how  I  can  keep  my 
place  any  longer." 

"  What's  biting  you  now  ? "  was 
Lisette's  query. 

"  My  shoes  are  all  wore  out  and  my 
best  dress  is  a  bunch  of  rags.  Most  of 
the  other  girls  dress  so  fine,  I'm 
ashamed  to  show  my  face  there." 

"  Well,  some  of  them  hot  dressers 
have  a  right  to  be  ashamed  to  show 
their  faces  anywhere.  Remember  what 
Laura  Jean  says :  '  Rags  is  royal  raimunt 
when  wore  for  voitue's  sake  ! ' 

"  I  know,  but — well,  I  asked  one  of 
the  girls,  Madeleine  McCann,  how  she 
managed  to  wear  such  swell  things  on 
four  a  week,  and  she  just  laughed." 

"  Madeleine's  got  a  noive  to  laugh  at 
that." 

"  She  said  they  was  give  to  her  by  an 

awful  nice  gentleman  friend  ;  and  she 
81 


z  Miss    318  - 

said  I  was  so  pretty  I  could  get  an 
ottamobile  if  I  only  had  friends.  Do 
you  believe  that?  " 

"  I  believe  her  so  much  I'll  break  her 
face  if  she  don't  leave  you  alone ! " 
Miss  Mooney  flared,  then  ruminated : 
"  Oh,  yes,  Moitle,  a  goil  with  half  a 
face  and  no  self-respeck  can  wear  di'- 
monds  and  oimine  cloaks  if  she  don't 
care  how  she  oins  'em. 

"  I  guess  you've  come  to  the  cross- 
town  line,  Moitle.  Every  goil  reaches 
it  that  don't  die  young  and  good.  You 
can  stay  on  the  straight  line  or  take  a 
transfer.  It's  up  to  you.  And  now 
you're  right  where  you  gotta  stay  on 
or  get  off.  You  gotta  make  up  your 
mind  which  you  want  most — a  lot  of 
glad  rags  or  a  speckled  repitation. 

"  Us  woikin'  goils   is  up  against  it, 

Moitle.     We're  only  hack-horses  unless 
82 


:  Dub s  and  Duds 


we  get  into  the  merry-go-round  and 
look  like  spotted  ponies.  There's  a  lot 
of  music  and  hoorah  goes  with  the 
merry-go-round,  but  don't  forget  the 
ponies  belongs  to  the  public ;  they're 
right  on  view  for  anybody  that  comes 
along  with  the  price. 

"  Coney  Island  is  a  nice  place  to  go 
for  a  while  and  look  at ;  but  the  poor 
dubs  that's  in  the  show — well,  they  got 
about  as  much  fun  as  us  folks  that's 
doin'  the  real  woik  in  this  Christmus 
celebration. 

"  Make  up  your  mind,  Moitle.  It's 
blamed  hard  either  way  ;  but  I  guess  in 
the  long  run  the  goil  that  does  her 
shop-woik  on  the  streets  ain't  got  any 
thing  on  the  goil  that  slaves  in  the 
stores.  We  don't  pull  down  much  coin 
and  it  comes  hard — but  it's  clean, 
Moitle;  it's  awful  nice  and  clean. 
83 


==    Miss    Ji8  — 

"  Some  day  a  husband  may  come 
along — a  decent,  hard-woikin'  guy. 
You  ain't  goin'  to  bring  him  anything 
except  yourself.  But  if  you  can  say  to 
him,  '  I  ain't  got  no  dowry,  but  I'm 
decent/  I  guess  that'll  make  him 
prouder  than  if  you  brung  him  a 
bucket  of  rubies  and  poils — and  he  was 
afraid  to  ask  you  where  you  got  'em — 
for  fear  you'd  tell  him.  Think  it  over, 
Moitle.  Your  time  has  came." 

And  then  the  girls  resumed  their 
long  climb  in  the  dark.  Another  flight 
and  Myrtle  paused  once  more,  to  groan 
and  to  wail : 

"  O'  course,  you're  right,  Lisette  ;  but 
it's  a  nawful  humiliation  to  go  through 
life  woikin'  like  an  ox  and  dressin'  like 


a  cow." 


"  That's  no  news  to  me,"  said  Lisette. 

But   sometimes   dubby   duds  is   less 
84 


Dubs  and  Duds : 


humiliatin'  than  being  too  much  a  la 
mud." 

She  waited  at  her  door  till  Myrtle 
went  on  up  to  her  own,  for  Myrtle  was 
afraid  of  the  dark.  But  Lisette  was 
more  afraid  for  her. 

She  had  seen  a  pitiful  procession  of 
girls  whose  feet  grew  tired  of  the 
narrow  path  behind  the  counter,  whose 
hands  grew  tired  of  selling  pretty  things 
to  other  women,  whose  hearts  grew  sick 
of  enduring  insult  for  a  pittance,  and 
who  wandered  just  outside  where  flat 
tery  waited  and  jewelry  and  love,  or  at 
least  its  tinsel  imitation.  And  she 
knew  that  Myrtle  was  of  the  type  that 
tempts  the  tempter,  and  is  fain  to 
drift. 


FAG  AND  FRET 

EVERY   morning   the  Mammoth 
Shop  opened  with  a  blare  and 
the   bombardment  kept  up  till 
night.     And  after  the  close  there  were 
further    hours   of    bitter    moil.      The 
racking  everlastingness  of  it  was  wear 
ing  the  hearts  of  the  store-crew  raw. 
The  irritated  shoppers  found  them  ir 
ritable  and  wondered  why. 

Miss  Mooney  caught  glimpses  of  Mr. 
Sterling  surrounded  by  frantic  women 
and  answering  their  rain  of  questions 
as  a  man  bats  at  a  swarm  of  wasps. 
Miss  Mooney  yearned  over  him  from 
afar  and  felt  woefully  sorry  for  him  ; 

longed  to  tell  him  how  handsome  he 
86 


—  Fag  and  Fret  — 

was,  how  patient,  how  alert,  how  auto 
matically  polite. 

She  mourned  the  deferred  oppor 
tunity  to  make  him  know  her  sym 
pathy,  her  helpfulness.  Those  even 
ings  that  were  to  have  been  devoted  to 
wooing  him  were  devoted  now  to 
wrestling  with  the  debris  of  a  day's 
battle  and  aligning  and  condensing  the 
stock  for  the  next  morning's  onsets. 

"  Oh,  if  I  only  had  one  evening 
off!"  was  the  constant  cry  of  Miss 
Mooney's  love-lorn,  shop-worn  soul. 

Mr.  Sterling  never  walked  home  with 
her  now.  He  left  before  she  did.  He 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  her.  Myrtle 
Crilley  was  always  telling  Lisette  how 
"  consid'rut  "  Mr.  Sterling  was  ;  but  of 
Miss  Mooney  Mr.  Sterling  was  mark 
edly  oblivious.  She  tried  to  flatter  her 
self  that  he  was  concealing  his  love 
87 


-   Miss    318  == 

from  the  prying  eyes  of  strangers.  A 
duke  would  have  done  that.  But  the 
theory  was  not  quite  satisfactory.  And 
she  had  a  heartache  every  time  he  gave 
her  a  curt  order.  He  called  her  "  318  " 
now — always. 

One  evening,  after  the  shop  was 
closed,  the  wilted  Myrtle  was  stretch 
ing  upward  to  push  a  bolt  of  goods  on 
a  high  shelf  when  she  reached  the  exact 
limit  of  her  energies, — simply  ceased 
to  be  alive  and  swooned  to  the  floor, 
striking  against  the  counter  as  she  fell. 
Miss  Mooney  from  a  distance  saw  her 
go  and  went  tearing  through  the  crowd 
that  formed.  She  went  with  rough 
shoves  and  harsh  commands  : 

"  Lea'  me  pass  !  Get  out  the  way  ! 
Give  her  air  !  Here,  lemme  take  her. 
Put  that  bolt  of  silk  under  her  feet. 

Go  on,  I  say  !     Whatta  I  care  if  it  is 
88 


n=i=.  Fag  and  Fret  — 

silk  ?  Bring  me  some  water,  you 
idiots ! " 

Swiftly  she  opened  the  girl's  waist  at 
the  throat  and  would  have  had  her 
corset  loosened  if  Myrtle  had  not  come 
back  to  life  with  a  sick  and  weary  re 
luctance. 

By  now  Mr.  Sterling  was  bending 
over  the  two  girls.  He  had  seen  num 
berless  women  faint ;  sometimes  they 
were  only  overworked,  underfed  shop 
girls.  He  was  brave  at  swoons.  But 
now  he  was  white  and  his  lips  trem 
bled.  He  lifted  the  pretty  bundle  in 
his  arms  and  spoke  to  her  soothingly. 

Miss  Mooney  felt  a  strange  alarm,  but 
she  forgot  herself  at  once  and  raged  : 

"  She'd  otta  go  home  and  lay  down. 
Somebody's  got  a  right  to  take  her 
home." 

She  asked  if  she  might  be  excused, 
89 


—  Miss    318  - 

but  the  floor-manager  needed  her.  He 
offered  to  send  one  of  the  little  girls  in 
the  gathering  department.  Mr.  Ster 
ling  came  to  the  rescue. 

"I'll  take  her  home  myself." 

"  That's  a  grand  idea,  Poicival,"  Miss 
Mooney  whispered.  But  he  did  not 
hear.  He  was  sending  one  girl  for 
Myrtle's  hat  and  coat  and  another  to 
order  a  taxi-cab. 

A  taxi-cab  !  A  floor-walker  taking  a 
saleslady  home  in  a  taxi-cab  !  It  was 
"  unhoid  "  of,  and  romantic — and  gee, 
how  swell ! 

Miss  Mooney  went  back  to  her  work. 
She  had  never  found  the  boxes  so 
heavy,  the  shelves  so  high.  Every 
thing  she  strained  for  was  just  out  of 
her  reach. 

She  went  home  alone,  grimly,  dog 
gedly.  She  intended  to  climb  on  up 
90 


Fag  and  Fret  :==n 

to  see  how  Myrtle  was,  but  when  she 
reached  her  own  floor  she  found  her 
mother  in  despair  over  the  condition  of 
Claryce. 

Claryce  had  been  working  for  fifteen 
hours  a  day  for  three  days,  eternally 
wrapping  chocolate  creams  in  tin-foil. 
The  monotony  of  it  had  driven  her 
into  hysteria.  She  was  making  such  a 
racket  with  her  sobs  and  laughs  that 
Lisette  had  to  calm  her  by  threatening 
to  beat  her  if  she  went  to  the  candy 
store  the  next  day. 

"  But  I'll  lose  the  day's  pay,"  the 
girl  blubbered  ;  "  and  I  was  goin'  to 
get  a  present  for  George  with  it." 

"I'll  make  up  the  loss  out  of  me 
own  pocket ;  but  if  any  member  of  this 
family  gives  anybody  a  Christmus  pres 
ent  I'll  commit  moider." 

An  hour  after  midnight  father  Den- 
91 


==   Miss    318  — 

nis  Mooney  came  in.  He  had  left  the 
stable  at  seven-thirty  in  the  morning 
and  had  driven  his  express  wagon  till 
midnight  in  an  icy  wind.  Then  the 
horses  had  to  be  driven  to  the  stable 
and  bedded  down.  Then  he  had  to 
walk  home.  His  legs  and  arms  were  so 
benumbed  that  he  felt  himself  growing 
old  and  he  was  in  mortal  dread  that 
sickness  or  accident  might  disable  him. 
The  express  company,  instead  of  pay 
ing  overtime,  made  each  employee  a 
gift  of  ten  dollars  for  doing  the  seven 
labours  of  Hercules  in  seven  days  to 
oblige  the  impatient  Christmas  spirit. 
Presents  must  be  on  time  at  whatever 
cost. 

Dennis  Mooney  had  already  provided 
a  place  for  that  ten  dollars.  It  meant 
more  to  him  than  any  amount  of  rest, 

warmth,  comfort.     The  weather  threat- 
92 


—  Fag  and  Fret  = 

ened  a  blizzard,  but  that  would  make 
no  difference  in  his  necessities  and  his 
children's  necessities.  He  could  afford 
better  to  die  December  26th  than  to  fall 
sick  December  22d. 

The  Crilley  family  had  troubles  of  its 
own  too.  Father  Crilley,  working  in 
the  Mammoth,  had  managed  to  crush 
three  of  his  right  fingers  under  a  fall 
ing  packing  case  ;  and  Mother  Crilley's 
rheumatism  was  that  bad  in  her  she 
had  been  unable  to  get  through  the 
store-scrubbin'  at  all  at  all  that  night. 
One  day's  pay  gone  was  a  calamity  ;  to 
lose  two  would  be  a  cataclysm. 

In  the  face  of  this  situation  Myrtle 
had  not  the  courage  to  spare  herself. 
She  tottered  into  the  Mammoth  the 
next  day  only  an  hour  late  ;  but  even 
Mr.  Sterling  could  not  get  her  fine  re 
mitted. 

93 


-  Miss    318  - 

Lisette's  vague  jealousy  of  her 
vanished  at  the  sight  of  Myrtle's  face. 
She  felt  spurred  even  to  a  compli 
ment  : 

"You're  lookin'  awful  well,  Moitle." 

"  Lookin'  well !     I'm  dying." 

"  I  know  you  are,  but  it's  becomin'  to 

you.     You  got  one  of  them  faces  that 

sufferin'  improves.     You  look  so  kind 

of  wistful  it  makes  everybody  feel  like 

pettin'  you.     When   I'm  wore  out  and 

sick  I  get  so  dog-on  green  and  stringy 

everybody  thinks  I  got  the  epizootic 

and  starts  to  run." 

Myrtle  was  deeply  interested  in  her 
own  woe.  She  described  her  sensations 
as  she  fainted,  how  appalling  they 
were  ;  and  how  doleful  the  family  condi 
tion  when  she  reached  home  in  Mr. 
Sterling's  cab. 

"  That  cab  must  have  set  him  back 
94 


Fag  and  Fret 


about  four  dollars,"  sighed  Miss 
Mooney. 

"  It  was  $3.80.  I  read  it  on  the  cash- 
register  those  taxi-cabs  has  in  front. 
But  he  didn't  make  any  fuss  about  it. 
He's  a  gentleman  if  ever  there  was  one — 
and  so  consid'rut.  He  said  I  mustn't 
work  any  more  this  week.  When  I  told 
him  I  just  had  to  he  offered  to  lend  me 
what  I  would  'a'  earned — and  more. 
But  I  wouldn't  take  it.  I  remem 
bered  what  you  told  me." 

Miss  Mooney's  feelings  were  mixed. 
Myrtle  went  on  : 

"  Paw  and  maw  are  both  so  stove  up 
they've  got  to  lay  off  a  day,  but  Alice 
and  Maude  can  work  nights  now ;  so 
they  get  somep'n  for  overtime." 

Alice  was  fourteen,  and  an  affidavit 
stated  that  twelve-year-old  Maude  was 
fourteen  ;  so  that  both  had  been  per- 
95 


-   Miss    318  - 

mitted  to  work,  by  night  as  well  as  by 
day.  For  a  kind  provision  of  the 
New  York  child-labour  law  fortunately 
suspends  the  edict  against  night  work 
from  December  18th  to  December 
24th  and  the  inspectors  are  graciously 
careless  during  this  glad  week.  Other 
wise  the  younger  children  of  the  poor 
would  be  denied  participation  in  the 
Christmas  privileges  of  night  work 
and  overtime ;  and  those  who  forget  to 
shop  till  the  last  few  days  might  find 
their  gifts  delayed  in  transit. 


XI 

TO  THE  KESCUE 

THE  Crilley  family  suffered  an 
other  disaster  that  afternoon. 
Alice,  the  cash-girl,  who  was 
fourteen  years  old  and  should  have 
known  better,  had  had  so  few  play 
things  in  her  lifetime  and  was  so 
dazzled  by  the  fairy-land  paradise  of 
the  store  that,  after  carrying  several 
hundred  beautiful  dolls  from  one 
counter  in  the  toy  department  to  the 
wrapping-counter  and  back,  she  thrilled 
with  such  a  spasm  of  longing  to  call  one 
of  the  exquisite  creatures  her  own  that 
she  lost  the  discretion  one  demands  of 
a  woman  of  her  years. 
97 


-   Miss    31$  — 

She  made  a  desperate  resolution  to 
kidnap  one  maddeningly  attractive 
doll,  sneak  it  home  and  adopt  it.  But 
the  purchaser  had  given  a  two-dollar  bill 
for  her  to  change.  Wondering  how  to 
dispose  of  all  this  wealth,  Alice  decided 
to  take  that  home,  too,  as  a  consolation 
to  her  mother  for  being  unable  to  scrub 
half  the  night. 

As  she  was  making  her  way  to  the 
cloak-room,  with  the  intention  of  con 
cealing  the  doll  in  her  ragged  coat,  one 
of  the  store-detectives  nabbed  her  and 
demanded  an  explanation  in  so  gruff  a 
tone  that  guilt  and  terror  combined 
with  grief  at  the  loss  of  the  doll  to 
throw  the  child  into  convulsions  of 
despair. 

To  avoid  alarming  and  exciting  the 
already  insanely  excited  shoppers,  Mr. 

Finn,  the  detective,  dragged  the  sobbing 
98 


To  the  Rescue 


culprit  out  of  sight  and  hearing  into  a 
corridor. 

Miss  Mooney  happened  to  be  passing 
through  on  her  way  to  a  four-o'clock 
luncheon.  She  paused,  learned  the  his 
tory  of  the  crime  and  asked  Mr.  Finn 
what  he  was  going  to  do  about  it. 

"Turn  the  little  sneak-thief  over  to 
the  cops,  of  course.  She  ought  to  go  to 
the  reform  school.  I  got  her  red- 
handed." 

Miss  Mooney  lost  her  temper  with 
facility  :  "  Red-handed  !  —  that  little 
white  rag  I  Reform  school  ? — why,  she's 
only  a  doll  herself!  Do  you  rully 
think  I'm  goin'  to  let  you  toin  that 
kid  over  to  the  cops  for  swipin'  a  dollar 
doll  that  cost  the  store  about  thoity- 
nine  cents  ?  Not  if  I  see  you  foist,  Mr. 
Finn." 

"  Wh-what  else  can  I  do,  Miss 
99 


-  Miss    318  - 

Mooney  ? "    the    terrified    official    ex 
claimed. 

"  Send  her  back  and  say  nothin',  you 
big  lunkhead.  I'll  pay  for  this  doll 
m'self  and  get  another  one  just  like  it 
for  the  dame  that's  waitin'  for  this. 
She  won't  do  it  again — will  you,  Alice? 
O'  course  you  won't.  If  you  do  I'll 
spank  the  life  out  of  you.  Now  go  on 
up  to  the  cloak-room  and  leave  this  ; 
and  gimme  that  two-dollar  bill.  Then 
come  down  and  get  busy  and  forget  it. 
As  for  you,  Jim  Finn,  take  your  big 
feet  back  in  that  crowd  and  try  and 
ketch  some  of  them  slick  shoplifters 
that's  been  walkin'  off  with  sealskin 
muffs  and  real  lace  doilies,  instead  of 
scarin'  babies  to  death.  You  overgrown 
cradle-snatcher  I  " 

The  frightened  child  went  sniffling 
to  the  cloak-room  with  her  booty,  and 

IOO 


To  the  Rescue 


it  was  the  detective  who  wore  the 
guilty  look  as  he  sneaked  back  into 
the  crowd. 

The  whole  transaction  was  hideously 
immoral  and  an  odious  blot  on  Miss 
Mooney's  record  of  perfect  fidelity  to 
the  store,  above  all  things  ;  but  perhaps 
the  Recording  Angel  was  sufficiently 
confused  to  set  it  down  in  the  wrong 
column — to  her  credit  instead  of  to  her 
expense. 

Miss  Mooney  said  nothing  of  this  to 
Myrtle,  not  even  when  she  saw  Mr. 
Sterling  hanging  about  after  store-clos 
ing  time,  waiting  to  escort  Miss  Crilley 
home — this  time  by  the  street  car,  the 
taxi-cab  of  the  poor. 

Lisette  was  kept  half  an  hour  later. 
When  at  last  she  entered  the  little  en 
trance-hall  of  the  flat-building,  and  set 

her  key  to  the  lock  of  the  inside  door, 
101 


=   Miss    Jf8  r 

Mr.  Sterling  was  just  finishing  his  fare 
well  to  Myrtle.  He  tossed  Miss  Mooney 
a  staccato  "  Good-night,"  as  he  hurried 
away. 

Lisette  did  not  help  Myrtle  up  the 
stairs  that  night.  Myrtle  did  not  need 
help. 


102 


XII 

MEEEY  XMAS  ! 

WHEN  Miss  Mooney's  fiendish 
alarm-clock  exploded  its 
clamour  at  six  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  day  before  Christ 
mas  the  room  was  still  dark.  After 
the  five  hours  of  sleep  Lisette  had  had, 
she  felt  that  the  room  ought  to  be  dark. 

She  tore  her  protesting  frame  from 
the  bed,  groped  to  her  wash-stand  and 
beat  her  hot  eyes  with  a  cold  wet  rag 
till  she  had  shocked  them  open.  She 
peered  past  the  window-shade. 

Down  the  dark  airshaft  huge  snow- 
flakes  were  fluttering  grayly,  omi 
nously. 

Lisette  began  to  pummel  her  sister 

awake. 

103 


Miss    318 


"  Goitrood  !  Goitrood  !  Get  up  ! 
Didn't  you  hear  the  alarm  ?  " 

Rousing  Gertrude  of  a  morning  was 
always  a  miracle  :  it  was  recalling  life 
to  the  dead.  This  morning  Gertrude 
was  deader  than  ever.  The  box  factory 
had  required  overtime  too,  to  supply  an 
unexpected  demand.  But  eventually 
she  was  up,  if  not  awake.  Claryce 
was  harder  still  to  galvanize.  She  had 
worked  till  three  o'clock  that  morning 
packing  nauseating  sweets  into  the  gift- 
boxes  Gertrude's  factory  was  shower 
ing  forth. 

Lisette  essayed  a  mockery  of  cheer  : 

"  The  people  that  have  been  hopin' 
for  a  white  Christmas  get  their  wish." 

"  Poor  paw  !  "  sighed  Gertrude. 

"  Poor  all  of  us  1 "  sighed  Claryce. 

The  necessity  of  making  haste  with 

the     breakfast     stimulated     all     the 
104 


—  Merry  Xmas  !  — 

Mooneys  to  an  artificial  vitality.  The 
father  dashed  off  to  his  stable,  the 
mother  ran  to  her  sewing  machine  to 
finish  an  eleventh-hour  job  that  had 
been  dumped  on  her.  The  two  boys 
fled  to  their  posts  and  the  three  girls 
skated  to  the  street  cars,  for  the  pave 
ments  were  covered  with  ice  and  the 
thickening  snow  was  disguising  the 
trickiest  spots. 

The  girls  would  have  made  a  lark  of 
it  if  their  hearts  had  not  been  squeezed 
so  dry  of  cheer ;  if  their  feet  had  not 
been  squeezed  so  full  of  pain.  The 
street  cars  were  tumbrels  of  wretched, 
exhausted,  early-morning  martyrs, 
wild-eyed  for  sleep.  The  girls  were 
lucky  to  get  aboard  at  all,  happy  to 
find  straps  to  hang  to. 

Wind   and   sleet   came  later  in  the 

morning.     Lisette,  smothered  with  the 
105 


.  Miss    318  - 

overheated,  overbreathed  air  and  the 
stifling  atmosphere  of  packed  and 
jammed  humanity,  envied  the  delivery 
drivers  and  wondered  if  she  could  ever 
endure  to  the  end  of  the  ordeal.  On 
this  blessed  occasion  the  store  kept 
open  till  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  so 
that  the  most  unlucky,  the  most  pro- 
crastinant  lover  of  his  friends  and 
family  could  dash  in  to  buy  the 
neglected  gifts,  at  whatever  cost  of 
privation  and  pain  to  the  prisoners  be 
hind  the  counters. 

Miss  Mooney  had  lived  through  five 
Christmases  and  she  supposed  that  she 
would  live  through  this  one — perhaps 
an  indefinite  number  more.  But  to 
day  her  heart  was  dead  in  her.  The 
little  encounter  in  the  entrance  hall ; 
the  haunting  fact  that  Mr.  Sterling  had 

taken  Myrtle  home  —Myrtle,  for  whose 
1 06 


Merry   Xmas  ! 


advantage  Lisette  had  unwittingly 
cooked  Mr.  Sterling's  Thanksgiving 
dinner ;  the  dreadful  fact  that  Mr. 
Sterling  had  lingered  for  half  an  hour 
to  say  his  "  Good-nights "  to  Myrtle 
and  had  not  lingered  half  a  minute  to 
say  "  Good-night "  to  herself — these 
things  she  thought  of  instead  of  the 
things  she  was  selling. 

Therefore  she  made  mistakes,  quoted 
wrong  prices,  added  figures  up  wrong, 
gave  the  wrong  parcels  to  people,  the 
wrong  change  to  others.  The  shoppers 
were  furious  with  her.  The  frenzy  of 
the  last  chance  to  shop,  the  indignation 
at  finding  the  best  things  gone,  the 
enormous  fatigue  of  the  ambulant 
population  of  the  store  almost  rivalling 
the  fatigue  of  the  stationary  populace, 
the  incredible  denseness  of  the  crowds 

and   their   immobility — all   these  and 
107 


-  Miss   318  - 

other  factors  in  the  annual  Christmas 
Waterloo  made  the  shoppers  peevish  to 
the  edge  of  hysteria. 

They  bullied,  harried,  criticized  all 
the  salespeople.  Even  Miss  Mooney 
they  bullied.  And  she  made  no  fitting 
replies.  There  was  no  fight  in  her. 

Some  of  the  girls  were  talking  about 
her  in  the  lunch-room  when  she 
dragged  her  listless  feet  thither  at  half- 
past  four  for  her  first  nibble  or  sip 
since  breakfast.  One  of  her  elbow 
neighbours  was  saying : 

"  Lisette's  come-backs  at  them  dames 
useta  be  as  good  as  a  show.  No  matter 
how  swell  the  party  might  be,  Lisette 
would  pass  it  right  across  the  counter 
to  her.  But  to-dav  she  ain't  laid  out 

v 

a  one  of  'em.  Low-brows  have  walked 
all  over  her.  I  bet  she's  sick.  I  bet 

she's  goin'  to  die  !  " 
108 


—  Merry   Xmas  !  — 

"  Who's  goin'  to  die  ?  "  said  Lisette 
herself.  They  turned  in  horror,  but 
she  had  heard  only  the  last  few  words. 
She  repeated  :  "  Who's  goin'  to  die — 
Moitle?" 

"  Naw  ;  Myrt's  as  chipper  as  a  canary 
to-day,"  said  Constance,  the  change- 
angel.  "  But  what  ails  you,  Lisette  ? 
You  look  awful  chalky  round  the  gills. 
You  ain't  sick?" 

"  Me  sick !  Where'd  I  get  time  to 
get  sick  ?  "  said  Miss  Mooney.  Then 
she  made  an  effort  at  her  old  spunk ; 
but  she  was  so  tired  she  fell  back  on 
used  material :  "  I'm  just  broken 
hearted  that  to-morra's  a  holiday  and 
the  store  won't  be  open.  I  just  hate  to 
lay  abed  late  in  the  morning  !  " 

There  was  a  volley  of  protests : 
"  Oh,  slush  I  "— "  Oh,  hush!  "— "  Don't 

talk  about  sleep  or  I'll  begin  to  snore 
109 


-  Miss    318  - 

right  here !  "— "  It'll  take  a  month  of 
Sundays  to  set  me  right." 

As  weary  arms  lifted  burdensome 
spoons  or  leaden  cups,  and  weary  jaws 
munched  slowly  at  tasteless  food,  the 
girls  fell  to  exchanging  experiences  of 
their  ante-Christmas  endeavour,  brag 
ging  about  their  misfortunes. 

Two  of  them,  whose  task  was  the 
careful  packing  of  cut  glass,  had  worked 
from  8  A.  M.  to  11  p.  M.  the  day  be 
fore  without  sitting  down,  except  to 
two  hasty  meals.  A  member  of 
the  photograph-developing  staff  had 
worked  till  midnight  every  night  for  a 
week  and  till  three  o'clock  the  morning 
before,  finishing  orders  for  those  who 
gave  their  own  pictures  as  gifts.  A 
heavy-eyed  woman  from  the  packing 
rooms  had  worked  for  the  last  four 
days  from  8 : 30  A.  M.  till  1  A.  M. 


no 


—  Merry   Xwas  !  — 

A  spectacled  damsel  from  the  audit 
department  claimed  the  palm  :  since 
December  7th  she  had  been  kept  over 
the  accounts  from  8 : 30  A.  M.  till 
nearly  midnight ;  she  lived  in  Ford- 
ham  and  she  had  almost  half  a  mile  to 
walk  along  a  country  road  when  she 
reached  home  at  night  or  left  it  extra 
early  in  the  morning. 

Listening  to  these  victims  of  the 
blissful  holiday  spirit,  Lisette  felt  that 
she  had  had  an  easy  week  of  it.  Her 
bitter  heart  turned  against  herself  for 
thinking  that  she  was  unlucky.  Now 
she  lacked  even  the  support  of  self- 
pity. 

Just  one  throb  of  it  came  to  her  at 
nine  o'clock  that  night,  when  she  made 
a  Lisettian  retort  to  a  shopper  who 
complained  of  her  to  a  floor-walker — to 
Mr.  Sterling  of  all.  The  woman  came 


in 


-  Miss    318  - 

back  with  him  in  tow.  For  the  greater 
glory  of  the  Mammoth  he  felt  called 
upon  to  uphold  the  sacred  rights  of  the 
customer. 

"  Miss  318,"  he  called  sharply.  "  This 
lady  says  that  you 

"  Yes ;  that's  so.  I'm  sorry.  I 
apologize,"  said  Lisette,  and  the  listen 
ing  girls,  who  knew  her  of  old,  almost 
fainted  with  amazement.  A  week  ago 
Lisette  would  have  floored  the  floor 
walker  and  the  customer  too,  but  to 
night  she  did  not  wait  to  be  accused. 
She  confessed  before  she  heard  the 
charge. 

"  Don't  let  it  happen  again  I "  said 
Mr.  Sterling  in  a  tone  of  cold  steel ; 
then,  with  quick  reversion  to  his  most 
floor- walkerly  unction,  he  purred  to  the 
triumphant  customer  :  "  Do  you  accept 

her  apology,  madam  ?  " 
112 


==  Merry   Xmas  !  zz 

The  offended  shopper  completed 
Lisette's  effacement. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  so ;  but  it's  shameful 
— the  impudence  of  these  creatures  !  I 
don't  know  what  makes  them  so  dis 
courteous.  Well,  I  suppose  it's  because 
they're  only  shop-girls  after  all." 

Then  she  swept  out,  hastening  to  the 
Christmas  tree  she  was  dressing  for  her 
dear  family  and  a  few  friends. 

Constance  gaped  incredulously  from 
her  crow's-nest. 

"  Lisette,  you  let  her  get  away  with 
it !  What's  the  matter  of  you  ?  " 

But  Lisette  did  not  hear.  She  was 
crying.  Her  tears  were  exposing  the 
pretenses  of  a  guaranteed  washable 
fabric,  but  what  did  she  care?  Her 
gentleman  friend  had  gave  her  a  call- 
down  before  everybody  I 

She  shed  only  a  few  tears,  but  a  few 


•    Miss    318  • 

were  many  for  Lisette.  In  a  moment 
she  lifted  her  head  and  began  answer 
ing  questions,  tapping  her  pencil  and 
calling  : 

"  Cash  !     Cash  !  " 

The  girl  who  answered  next  was 
Alice  Crilley,  wavering  on  her  spindle 
legs.  When  she  came  back  with  the 
change  she  motioned  Lisette  to  bend 
down  while  she  whispered  : 

"  Merry  Christmus,  Miss  Mooney  !  I 
love  you  ! " 

The  Crilleys  were  grateful  at  least, 
very  grateful,  as  the  outcome  showed. 

An  effort  to  shut  up  shop  was  made 
at  ten,  but  the  incoming  crowds  pre 
vented.  At  eleven  the  doors  were 
forcibly  put  together  in  the  face  of  a 
number  of  indignant  persons  who  were 
outraged  at  the  laziness  and  selfishness 

of  the  employees. 

114 


—  Merry   Xmas  !  — 

An  hour  more  and  the  crowds  that 
had  been  closed  inside  had  been  waited 
on  and  had  straggled  out  piecemeal. 

The  day's  work  was  now  finished 
save  for  a  matter  of  two  hours'  labour 
clearing  up  the  Augean  disorder  and 
arranging  the  display  of  the  great  White 
Sale,  with  which  shop-weary  woman 
kind  would  be  decoyed  back  into  the 
store  the  day  after  Christmas. 


XIII 

HEE  HOLIDAY 

CHRISTMAS  morning  was  two 
hours  old  when  Lisette's  work 
was  done  and  permission  was 
given  her  to  set  out  for  One  Hundred 
and  Forty-seventh  Street.  She  was 
so  tired  and  lonely  that  she  looked 
about  for  Myrtle.  She  was  reduced  to 
the  estate  of  wishing  to  lean  on  Myrtle. 

She  made  inquiries  in  Myrtle's  de 
partment.  A  sick-eyed  girl,  in  the  last 
stages  of  collapse,  moaned  : 

"  Myrtle  Crilley,  you  mean  ?  Oh,  I 
think  she  resigned  and  went  home  at 
six  o'clock.  I  guess  the  work  was  kind 
of  hard  for  her.  Her  mother's  down 
stairs.  You  can  ask  her." 

Miss  Mooney  slouched  to  an  elevator. 
116 


—   Her  Holiday  — 

The  boy  was  asleep  standing  up.  She 
took  to  the  stairs.  In  the  basement 
she  found  little  Jimmie  Crilley  hors  de 
combat.  He  had  been  filling  the  big 
wheeled  bins  with  packages  for  the  de 
livery  wagons  since  early  morning. 
The  last  truck  had  set  out  at  eleven 
and  Jimmie  had  fallen  asleep  in  one  of 
the  bins. 

Eleven-year-old  Maude  was  one  of 
several  shrivelled  little  "  gatherers " 
darting  about  picking  up  waste-paper, 
torn  boxes,  bits  of  string  and  like  clut 
ter. 

"  Me  woik's  almost  finished,  Miss 
Mooney,"  she  said. 

"  And  I  guess  you  are  too.  Where's 
your  maw  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she's  scrubbin'  round  here 
somewheres.  Oh,  there  goes  her  feet 

just  crawlin'  behind  that  counter." 
117 


r   Miss    318  ~ 

Miss  Mooney  followed  the  crouching 
old  woman  and  asked  if  she  might  go 
home  with  her. 

Mrs.  Crilley  sat  up  on  her  heels  with 
a  yowl  of  rheumatic  agony,  then 
twisted  a  sleepy  smile  : 

"  The  Lord  love  ye,  Miss  Lizzie ! 
I'm  here  these  next  two  hours  yet." 

"  I  guess  this  is  where  I  beat  it  for 
home  all  by  my  lonesome." 

"  If  it  would  be  anny  coompany  to 
you — and  you'd  be  doin'  me  a  favour 
at  that — you  might  trundle  them  two 
childer  home  wit'  you.  It's  gittin' 
kind  of  late  for  the  cr'atures." 

"  I'd  be  tickled  to  death  ;  of  course  I 
I  will." 

Mrs.  Crilley  beamed  up  at  her : 
"  I'm  thinkin'  you're  always  glad  to 
be  doin'  good  to  people,  Miss  Lizzie. 

And    it's  little  I  know  where  us  Cril- 
118 


zr   Her  Holiday  — 

leys  would  be  this  blessed  Christmus  if 
you  hadn't  come  our  way,  God  love 

ye  I" 

Miss  Mooney  was  so  unused  to  praise 
of  this  sort — or  of  any  sort — that  her 
cheeks  were  amazed  to  find  themselves 
blushing.  She  darted  away  from  the 
confusion  of  gratitude,  woke  the  Cril- 
ley  boy,  bundled  up  the  Crilley  girl 
and  set  out  for  home  with  them. 

The  streets  were  hushed  a  little  with 
snow  and  the  shopping  district  was  as 
quiet  as  a  last  year's  battle-field. 
They  passed  a  dark  and  lonesome 
church.  Some  hours  ago  it  had  been 
all  alight  and  harmonious  with  carols. 
It  was  deserted  now.  Street  cars  were 
infrequent  and  their  passengers  were 
mostly  drugged  with  fatigue.  A  few 
who  had  found  the  leisure  to  get 

drunk  were  regarded  with  envy. 
119 


-  Miss    318  - 

The  residences  along  the  car  line 
were  generally  dark  and  still.  Hours 
before,  they  had  been  hilarious  with 
holiday  cheer,  with  gleaming  pine 
trees  and  with  the  exchange  of  gifts 
that  Miss  Mooney  and  her  sort  had 
displayed  and  sold  and  delivered. 
But  these  houses  were  dark  now. 

Down  many  a  side  street  great 
trucks  were  still  pounding,  the  tor 
mented  horses  slipping  and  scram 
bling,  the  overdriven  drivers  fiendish 
with  hurry  and  merciless,  as  they  had 
received  no  mercy.  Small  boys  were 
helping  the  drivers,  shivering  on  the 
snowy  seats  and  at  every  stop  drop 
ping  to  the  ground,  lugging  bundles 
up  stoops  and  waiting  for  some  one  to 
answer  the  bell.  Flocks  of  messenger 
boys  in  uniform  were  still  busy  about 

the  town,  carrying  telegrams  of  good 
1 20 


—   Her  Holiday  zr 

will  and  parcels  of  all  shapes  and 
sizes. 

It  seemed  an  age  before  the  car 
reached  Miss  Mooney's  street.  On 
either  side  of  her  the  Crilley  children 
slept.  Sleep  was  pleading  with  her 
too,  but  she  was  afraid  of  being  carried 
past  her  destination  and  she  agonized 
against  the  stupor. 

At  last  the  car  approached  her  dis 
trict.  She  wakened  the  complaining, 
stumbling,  half-clothed  waifs  and,  with 
an  arm  about  each,  helped  them  out 
into  the  snow  and  along  the  slippery 
pavement.  So  they  reached  home, 
their  day's  work  done — the  shop-girl 
flanked  by  the  bin-boy  and  the 
gatherer. 

Lisette  lugged  the  children  up  the 
stairs  somehow.  Their  father  met  them 
at  the  door. 

121 


Miss 


"  Make  no  n'ise,"  he  cautioned  them 
in  a  whisper.  "  Your  poor  sister 
Myrtle  is  sleepin'.  Thank  ye  very 
kindly,  Miss  Mooney,  for  ahl  ye've 
done  for  us.  I'd  give  ye  me  right 
hand,  but  I  hurted  it  and  lost  two 
days'  pay.  But  here's  me  left  hand. 
It's  n'arest  the  heart  ;  and  so  the  Lord 
love  ye  and  give  ye  a  Merry  Christmas 
and  manny  of  them  !  " 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Crilley.  The 
same  to  you.  Good-night."  She  tot 
tered  for  the  stairs,  whispering  to  her 
self:  "A  Merry  Christmas!  —  oh,  yesl 
Many  of  them  —  no,  thanks  I  " 

She  was  halted  by  a  shrill  whisper. 
She  turned  to  see  Myrtle  Crilley  at  the 
door,  beckoning  to  her.  Even  to  Miss 
Mooney,  at  that  time,  in  that  mood, 
the  girl  was  pretty,  standing  there  in 
her  nightgown,  with  her  long  hair  free. 


122 


So  they  went  home — the  shop-girl   flanked  by  the  bin-boy 
and  the  gatherer. 


—   Her  Holiday  — 

She  was  trembling  with  the  cold  and 
with  her  new  rapture. 

"  I  heard  you  whispering.  I  wasn't 
asleep  yet.  I'm  too  happy  to  sleep. 
I've  just  got  to  tell  you,  Lisette,  for  I 
owe  it  all  to  you." 

"  What  you  talkin'  about,  Moitle?" 
said  Miss  Mooney,  who  had  a  dreadful 
knowledge  of  what  was  coming.  The 
girl  seized  her  and  murmured  : 

"  Mr.  Sterling  made  me  leave  the 
store.  He  said  I  was  too 

"  Yes  ;  I  know  you  are.     Go  on." 

"  Well,  we're  going  to  be  married. 
He's  got  a  day  off,  you  know  ;  and  he's 
just  crazy  about  me,  and  I  think  he's 
the  grandest  man  on  earth.  And  we'll 
be  so  happy.  But  I  owe  it  all  to  you, 
Lisette.  If  you  hadn't  invited  him  to 
that  Thanksgiving  dinner  and  sent  for 

me   we'd    never    met.     It   was   awful 
123 


==  Miss    318  - 

generous  and  consid'rut  of  you,  Lisette. 
You're  the  best-hearted " 

"  Kinely  omit  flowers  !  "  snapped 
Miss  Mooney,  who  could  never  do  any 
thing  gracefully.  "  I  hope  you'll  be 
tumble  happy.  Good-night  I  " 

"  Merry  Christmas  and  a  Happy  New 
Year  !  Mr.  Sterling  and  I  have  bought 
you  a  lovely  Christmas  present.  I'll 
give  it  to  you  later.  Good-night, 
dearie  I  " 

"  A  Christmas  present ! — the  noive 
of  them  1  "  said  Miss  Mooney  aloud, 
though  she  was  alone — very  much 
alone. 

She  limped  down  the  creaking  stair 
way  on  feet  that  seemed  to  creak.  She 
tiptoed  into  her  own  flat,  fearing  to 
wake  the  sleepers,  whom  Gabriel  him 
self  would  have  had  to  blow  at  twice. 

She  wavered  as  she  stood  up  to  peel  off 
124 


'I  have  just  got  to  tell  you,  Lisette,  for  I  owe  it  all  to  you.' 


zzzmzznz:   Her  Holiday  i=r= 

her  clothes ;  and  as  she  stretched  her 
self  out  in  bed  she  was  too  tired  to  be 
lonely,  or  to  regret  anything,  or  to  wish 
for  anything  but  what  was  about  to  be 
hers.  Her  prayer  was  brief — one 
whole-souled  sigh  : 

"  Thank  God  for  the  takin'  off  of 
shoes  !    Thank  God  for  sleep  I  " 


125 


XIV 

THE  WHITE  SALE 

THE    day   after    Christmas   the 
Mammoth     Shop    was     again 
crowded   and    rumorous   as   a 
huge  beehive.      There  was  missing  the 
frenzy  of  Christmas  shopping.     Things 
had  settled  down  to  their  normal  rou 
tine. 

The  White  Sale  was  on.  In  the  less- 
advertised  aisles  a  few  women  idled 
about,  examining  things  in  a  leisurely 
way.  Miss  Madeleine  McCann  was 
showing  a  new  diamond  ring  to  the 
other  salesladies,  who  expressed  their 
own  ideals  by  their  envy  or  by  their 
scorn.  Around  the  counters  where  the 

day's    prime    bargains   were    exposed 
126 


The  White  Sale: 


there  were  fierce  struggles,  but  their 
ferocity  lacked  the  fanatic  element  of 
altruism  that  had  embittered  the  holi 
day  war.  Mr.  Percival  Sterling  moved 
here  and  there,  gracious  as  of  yore,  but 
with  a  certain  aloofness,  a  certain  added 
dignity. 

In  one  of  the  bargain  kiosks  a  tired- 
looking  woman  with  hair  of  a  sulphur 
ous  tint  was  rebuking  the  imperti 
nences  of  the  jostlers  about  her.  At  a 
slight  distance  one  could  hear  little 
but- 

"  What's  that?  Yes,  m'm  I  No, 
m'm  I  The  price  is  plainly  marked. 
What's  that?  Yes,  m'm.  No,  m'm." 

Two  women,  beautifully  dressed, 
dawdling  about  with  no  more  intent 
to  purchase  than  if  they  had  been  in 
the  Metropolitan  Art  Gallery,  retreated 

in  dismay  from  her  environs. 
127 


-  Miss    318  - 

"  What's  the  matter  with  that  crea 
ture  ? "  said  one.  "  She's  a  regular 
snapping-turtle. " 

"Oh,  that's  318,"  said  the  other. 
"She's  always  that  way.  I  don't 
know  why  they  keep  her." 

In  the  rotunda  a  number  of  men  on 
long  ladders  were  removing  in  sections 
a  colossal  statue  of  papier-mache".  The 
iconoclasts  were  handling  it  with  care 
less  irreverence.  From  what  remained 
it  had  evidently  been  a  hollow  image 
of  Santa  Glaus. 


THE   END 


128 


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